Happiness Can't Be Arranged Oneshots
by grayautumnsky13
Summary: Stories set within my HCBA verse.
1. Sweet Baby of Mine

Regina smiles hazily down at their newborn son as she rubs her thumbs gently over the silky-soft bottoms of his little feet–and despite her exhaustion, she can't quite bring herself to look away from him, to bring herself to close her eyes and allow herself a little sleep.

The day had passed in a blur–though, as she lived through it, it hadn't seemed that way at all.

Nothing that day had gone as planned–starting with Dr. Hopper's assurance only three days before, at her last examination, that there'd be at least another two weeks before the baby made its arrival, and ending with the rainstorm that prevented him from traveling from town to the hunting lodge to help her through the delivery. None of it had bothered her much–she'd done it all before and the second go-around had been much easier than the first in almost every way–but there'd been no denying the fear in Robin's eyes, and worse, the fear in Roland's.

All throughout her pregnancy, it hadn't been lost on her that the last time Robin was expecting a baby, he'd been preparing to lose a wife. The situations were completely different, and on most days, he was able to push aside the worry, but it was always there. It'd creep up in quiet moments. She'd catch him staring at her from across the room or she'd wake up in the middle of the night with him holding her just a bit too tightly, and if she had so much as a bit of indigestion, he was sending Winston for Dr. Hopper.

Roland was cuddlier than he usually was–which she had no complaints about–and always wanted to be near her. They'd fallen into a habit of taking walks together, and he'd hold tightly onto her hand as they walked along the edge of the woods. He went slower than necessary when they returned to the lodge, he'd split a cookie with her and make sure that she sat down. Every morning, he'd peek into her room and blow her a kiss and every night he made it a point to tell her that he loved her. It was sweet the way he cared–the way he wanted to take care of her in whatever way that he could–but, in a lot of ways, it was bittersweet. He knew that Marian died the night that he was born, and sometimes, it seemed, that he was trying to soak up every moment that he could with her, just in case the same thing happened when she gave birth to this new baby.

Henry shared in her excitement, though. He helped her to knit a little blanket, and he teased her about its uneven edges. They picked out a rocking chair together, and he helped her cut out and sew the edges of little flannels that the baby would wear as diapers. He kept a running list of possible baby names in one a leather-bound booklets and put little marks next to his favorites. He'd written down anything that either she or Robin floated out as a possibility and crossed out anything either of them had nixed–which, unfortunately meant his book was filled with the names suited for a little girl because Robin had refused to even consider the possibility they'd be having a son…

"Mm, I fell asleep," Robin voice says, groggy and raspy, as he pulls her back into the present moment.

"You did," she confirms, momentarily glancing at him and watching as he blinks and stretches out his arms. "You've been out for almost an hour," she adds before looking back to the baby in her lap. "But, I suppose that's expected, given that its nearly time for the sun to come up."

Clearing his throat, Robin pulls himself up a bit and rolls onto his side, propping his head up in his hand. He runs two fingers up and down her arm and drops a kiss to her shoulder. "That's… actually incredibly embarrassing," he tells her as makes a poor attempt to stifle a yawn. "You had a baby today and I'm the one who needs rest?"

She giggles softly. "You helped."

His eyes widen. "I… sat next to you and watched."

"You held my hand."

"And watched Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Beakley do anything that was helpful to you."

"The back rubs you gave me were nice."

"It was the least I could do," he tells her, blinking a couple of time as he sighs, then drops another kiss to her shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," she admits. "And tired."

"You should–"

"No," she cuts in, grinning down at their son as he curls his little toes and scrunches up his face. "I think I'm beyond the point of sleeping. I just… want to stare at him." Momentarily, she looks to Robin and a little laugh escapes her. "Besides, my mother and your father are going to be here in a couple of hours, and… I'd really like to sleep through that, if I can."

"You absolutely can," Robin tells her, laughing softly as his arm slips around her shoulders. "And, if you're sleeping, that means I can tend to this little guy and leave them to their own defenses."

Looking back to her infant son, she nods. "Just to be clear," she says, rubbing her hands over the soft cotton blanket that covers the baby. "I don't want a wet nurse. I don't want him to be Mal's responsibility, and I don't want to hire someone else to care for him. I want to do it."

"I know," he murmurs. "That's what we decided."

She nods. "I just… when they get here, I know they both have… ways of…"

"He's our son, Regina. We choose how he's raised."

"Right," she says, nodding as her hands slip over his shoulders and back down his tiny arms. "He's our son." She holds her breath as her eyes pinch closed, and she thinks about all of the times he said that he pictured them having a daughter, how convinced he was that the child she carried was a girl, and how much he seemed to be looking forward to tea parties and china dolls, to sweet little party dresses and ribbons tied around braids.

"You're… alright with that, aren't you? You're not… disappointed?"

"What?"

"I know you wanted this one to be a girl."

"Oh," he breathes out. "No. No, I'm not disappointed." His fingers kneed at her shoulder, and she can practically feel the smile stretching across his lips and shining through his eyes. "How could I be disappointed when you've given me something so perfect?"

A smile edges into her lips. "He is quite perfect," she says, rubbing her palms over her baby boy's legs and wrapping her fingers loosely around his feet. "And quite without a name."

"Ah, right."

"You wouldn't hear anything suitable for a boy."

"I've always been of the thought that you shouldn't name someone until you've met them."

"I can understand that… to a degree," she murmurs. "But we've met him now."

"So, now we should name him."

"Yes," she says, nodding as she focuses her attention on their son and thinks back to all the names she'd considered–all of which don't quite fit the child in her lap. "I had a couple of favorite names for this little guy, but… I don't know now."

"What were they?"

She sighs. "George, for one."

"No," he agrees. "He's not a George."

"Robert was another I thought about, then… decided I didn't like that for him," she says, looking briefly in his direction. "Too many R's."

Robin nods. "I hate when people do that–name everyone something similar." He shrugs. "Like they're little interchangeable pieces."

"Mm," she nods. "Another was Alexander, which I like the most so far."

"Maybe" he says again. "I like Alexander, but it's–"

"Off."

"Yes."

"Maybe Alexander could be a middle name." 

"Perhaps," he murmurs, drawing in a breath as he presses a kiss to her hair. "What about Oliver?"

A grin edges onto her lips as she looks from Robin back to their son–she hadn't thought of that, but she thinks she likes it. "Oliver," she says, testing out the name as she continues to gently knead the baby's feet. "Oliver Alexander."

"We could call him Ollie," Robin says in a nearly sing-sing voice as he reaches out and runs two fingers over their son's little hand. "It's got kind of a ring to it, doesn't it? Oliver Alexander Locksley."

"It does," she agrees. "And Ollie is so sweet." The baby stirs in her lap, his little tongue pushing out from between his lips as his nose scrunches up and his cheeks turn red. His little hands ball into fists as he takes in a in few rushed breaths–and then, instead of a cry, he yawns and then relaxes, continuing to sleep. "I… think that means he's considered it and decided that he likes it."

"As he should," Robin says, laughing softly. "It's a good name."

"It is," she agrees, her eyes suddenly heavy as her head falls to his shoulder. "We have son… a son named Oliver."

"And he's perfect."

She draws in a breath and momentarily lets her eyes close–and then, a moment later, she flinches. Her head jerks up from Robin's shoulder and her eyes fly open as she slowly releases her breath and blinks down at Oliver.

"You should sleep."

"I–"

"Need to sleep," Robin cuts in, slowly leaning forward as he pushes his hand underneath their son, lifting him up from her lap. "I've got him," he murmurs as he settles back against the pillow and lays Oliver against his chest.

She grins groggily as she watches Robin rub circles against Oliver's little back, and she watches the way he presses a soft kiss to the top of his head as breathes him in. Oliver kicks his little feet through the opening of the blanket around him and practically snuggles against his father–and truly, she could watch the two of them forever.

But Robin adjusts himself again, and this time he edges closer to her, moving carefully as he drapes his arm around her shoulders. "You need to sleep, love," he tells her, pressing a kiss to her hair just before her head falls to his shoulder. "We'll be right here when you wake up."

She blinks and smiles at the way Oliver's cheek is scrunched up, pressed into Robin's chest and the way his little fingers clutch at Robin's shirt. "For a just a little while," Regina murmurs, blinking again, and this time finding it too difficult to open her eyes. "Wake me if–"

"He will," Robin tells her as her own voice fades. "We both know that he will."

Nodding against his chest, she smiles–and the last thing she thinks of before finally drifting off to sleep is how full her heart feels.


	2. In Every Way

Charlotte Eleanor was born earlier that day, and already, she was every bit her mother's daughter.

Smiling, he peered down at his infant daughter, sleeping against his chest and smiled. She was tiny and perfect, and though she'd only been a part of their lives for a matter of hours, she'd already secured a place in his heart, and he couldn't imagine their lives without her.

Though still pink, he could tell that she had Regina's complexion, the dark colored hair, and though her eyes were now hazel, there were little flecks of dark brown in them that told him they'd soon change, and it wouldn't be long before she had her mother's big, brown eyes. Their similarities extended beyond looks as Charlotte was already proving to be strong-willed and stubborn, a fighter and a survivor, and from the very start, she'd been so full of surprises.

Unlike Regina's pregnancy with Oliver, which was planned from his conception to his birth, Charlotte was a surprise from the start.

She'd kept her presence a secret for longer than expected, so Regina was already into her fifth month when the pregnancy was confirmed by Doctor Hopper. Of course, Mrs. Beakley, being the daughter of a midwife, had her suspicions, but Doctor Hopper assured them Regina couldn't be pregnant; afterall, she was still nursing Oliver. Robin wasn't privy to the details, and whenever he was near, Doctor Hopper was annoyingly coy, but the gist of it had been that Regina's body was merely adjusting to weaning Oliver and soon, everything would return to normal. The tell-tale signs of pregnancy were merely flukes.

Then one morning, Regina hadn't felt well. She'd gone to lay down, and Mrs. Beakley took her some peppermint tea. The next thing he knew, he was being summoned to their bedroom. Regina was standing there in her night dress, looking in the mirror with her hand over the soft, budding curve of her stomach.

His eyes had widened as a smile drew onto his lips as he asked her if he was that obtuse, wondering how it was possible that he hadn't noticed it before. Just two nights before he'd seen her in much less than a night dress. He'd touched her and held her, and it seemed inconceivable that he wouldn't have noticed. But her body had changed since Oliver's birth, and though he thought she was beautiful as ever, she often made sure the candlelight was dim enough to reduce them to shadows whenever they were intimate with one another, not allowing him to properly see her-and not allowing him to see what was now so obvious.

He asked if she was sure, and she nodded. Laughing out, he grabbed her and swung her around, kissing her as her feet met the floor. She'd pulled away from him suddenly, and her eyes widened. But before he could even worry, she grabbed ahold of his hand and pressed it to her abdomen-and that's when he'd felt the baby moving around inside of her. It'd been a quick little flutter, but he'd certainly felt it, and no more proof than that was needed.

Though her pregnancy with Charlotte wasn't particularly difficult, she hadn't been well. The sickness that usually ended after those first few months stayed with her throughout. Her ankles swelled to the point of looking painful, her appetite was finickey, and no matter how often, he'd catch her wincing with discomfort when she assumed no one was watching. Dr. Hopper's visits to the lodge were frequent, and though he assured them that all of this was normal, he couldn't help but worry about her-and, so when Dr. Hopper recommended bed rest going into the last month of Regina's pregnancy, he couldn't help but feel relieved.

Regina, however, didn't share that feeling. By the end of the first day, she was bored, and by the end of the second, she was annoyed. Mrs. Potter came in during the afternoons and sat with her, attempting to teach her needlework in hope that it might give her something to do and would occupy her mind, but it only further frustrated her. Mrs. Beakley visited with her during meals and tea, catching her up on the local gossip and telling her stories, and when they weren't with her, he was-and his presence was generally met with mixed reception.

Charlotte clearly shared her mother's feelings because after less than two weeks of bedrest, she decided she'd had enough. And despite being just under a month before her due date, in the early hours of that morning, Regina went into labor, waking him and sending him into a poorly concealed panic.

He'd sent Belle for Mrs. Beakley, and her father rounded up the boys, and it wasn't long after that that Dr. Hopper arrived.

The labor was long and slow, and his heart raced wildly as he sat at her side, holding her hand and praying. He didn't know if he believed in a higher power, but he figured it couldn't hurt to try, and if anything, some divine being might not hold him in very much esteem, but it'd certainly be on the side of an infant child.

He'd felt utterly helpless as Doctor Hopper suddenly urged her to _stop_ , and his heart nearly shattered when Regina asked if something was wrong, and her question was met with silence. It'd been Mrs. Beakley's voice that answered-not really answering, but responding-as she told Robin told hold onto Regina. He'd nodded as his arm slipped around her shoulders-and then, she burrowed her face in his chest as Mrs. Beakley explained that she'd need to turn the baby, promising to be gentle as she could.

Regina's screams had driven tears to his eyes and he'd held her as tightly as he could-and then, it was suddenly over and Charlotte's cry filled the room. Regina looked up as Mrs. Beakley turned the red-faced and wailing infant toward her, announcing they now had a daughter. He'd sat there numbly as he watched Doctor Hopper cut the umbilical cord-and it wasn't until Mrs. Beakley was laying a screaming Charlotte into her mother's arms that he'd allowed himself to relax and to smile.

His heart still raced as he watched Regina holding the infant girl in her arms, smiling down at her and examining every inch of her. Mrs. Potter was there, too, and she'd handed Regina a white blanket trimmed in red ribbon and embroidered with little red apples-and Regina laughed at the sight of it, making an off-handed comment about Mrs. Potter finishing the blanket for her, before wrapping their daughter in it.

What happened immediately after was a hazy blur. Everyone else faded away as he lowered himself to the bed beside her, peeking over the edge of the blanket and watching as Regina cradled their daughter, watching as she soothed her-and when he reached out to adjust the blanket to get a better look at her, Charlotte had reached out and took hold of his finger-and just like that, he was head over heels in love.

"Mm, how long did I sleep?" Regina asks, her eyes fluttering as she turned her head on the pillow.

"Not long-an hour maybe."

"That was quite an unexpected nap."

"You more than earned it," he tells her, grinning at her as he strokes his fingers over Charlotte's back. "You should go back to sleep. I can manage her for a bit longer on my own, and your father has the boys and is prepared to have them for the night."

"Oh," she sighs. "I almost feel sorry for him. They're all so anxious."

"They'll get to meet her soon," he reminds her. "And it's not like he doesn't have help."

"That's true," she nods. "And I'll admit, it's nice to have her all to ourselves for a little bit."

He nods. "How do you feel?"

"Like my lower half has been trampled by a fleet of horses," she tells him, grimacing as she pulls herself up to sit. "But it's nothing that won't pass."

"Is it worse than-"

She nods. "Henry and Oliver were easy," she admits, reaching out and strumming two fingers over Charlotte's cheek, "This little one was quite the opposite." She grins as her eyes shift up to him. "Something tells me that's going to remain true of her."

At that, he laughs, nodding in agreement. "With three older brothers, she might have to."

"They're going to dote on her," Regina says. "Henry and Roland, at least. They're too old to think of her as competition."

"Oliver is _not_ going to take kindly to having to share cuddles."

"As long as we don't pawn him off on Roland, I think it'll be alright."

Robin starts to laugh, but Regina winces, then eases herself back. He watches as she draws in a breath and presses her eyes closed, slowly releasing it as she leans back against the pillows.

"Can I get you anything?

"Just… um… one of the cloths," she murmurs, gesturing to a little bowl that Mrs. Beakley left for them, filled with tea-soaked strips of linen.

He nods and carefully transfers Charlotte into her arms, grinning as Regina cuddles their daughter against her chest-and no sooner than he's up, she lets out a squeaky little cry. Regina's quick to console her though, and by the time he reads through the instructions that Mrs. Beakley left for them, Charlotte is content once more with the corner of her blanket clenched in her tiny fist as she suckles its edge.

"Did I miss anything while I was sleeping?

"Not much," he admits. "Minus a few diaper changes."

Her brow arches. "A few? You said I was only aslee for-"

He laughs out. "Let's just say we're both lucky this isn't my first child."

"That bad?"

"You weren't wrong when you said she'd be difficult."

"But you managed."

He nods as a grin pulls onto his lips as he reaches the table near the hearth. "You'll notice that I've changed my clothes," he tells her as he reaches for one of the cloths and squeezes it out the excess tea. "But in the midst of it, I discovered she has your smile."

"My smile-"

"Yes."

"You do realize that babies don't smile when they're hours old?"

"She did."

"You _think_ she did."

"Maybe she's gifted," Robin says, looking back at her as he wrings out the linen to ensure its only damp. "Perhaps-"

"She had gas."

He blinks. "I prefer to think she smiled."

A soft giggle escapes her as she looks down at Charlotte. "We'll just let him think that," she tells her in a soft sing-song voice. "Besides, I don't think you'll have my smile."

"No?"

Regina shakes her head. "Look at her dimples. Those dimples are yours." Her eyes shift up to meet his as he moves back to the bed, lowering himself carefully. "So, it's reasonable to think she'll have your smile."

He grins a little. "Perhaps."

"Only time will tell, I suppose."

"Oh," he murmurs, a grin edging onto his lips as he hands her the tea-soaked cloth. "She blew a spit bubble earlier, and my heart absolutely melted."

"Well, that I can believe, on both accounts."

Robin laughs again, nodding. "It popped over her nose. Her eyes went wide and-" He sighs. "It was adorable."

"Did it?" she asks, peering down at the little girl, gasping as her eyes widen. "Your brothers would be awfully proud of that, you know," Regina coos, smiling as she pets her fingers over the baby's hair as she tells Charlotte a little bit about each of her brothers-and Robin feels his chest tightening. Her voice is so soft, and Charlotte's eyes are fixed on her as though paying close attention and memorizing every detail that her mother shares.

He nudges her softly, reminding her of the linen and she grins, nodding in understanding. "All three of them are just going to love you to pieces," she tells her. "But between the two of us, that's a lot of boy in the house and that's why I'm so glad to have you."

Finally, she looks back to him and takes the linen, shifting Charlotte in her arms, moving her so that she's tight against her chest.

"Can I help?" he asks, watches as she takes the cloth and pushes it beneath the blanket. "I can-"

"I've got it," she tells him, relief washing over her face as she withdraws her hand from beneath the blanket. "You've played nursemaid enough for one day."

"I'd turn into a jester-outfit and all-if it could help."

"That won't be necessary," she assures him, laughing softly as her eyes cast down to Charlotte. "Though, I'll admit that would be quite a sight to see." Chuckling, he nods, watching as she shifts the baby again, so that they can both see her. "Don't you agree? Wouldn't he look silly?"

Charlotte is unamused though and her eyes flutter-and for awhile, they just watch her, watching as she falls asleep and the grip on her blanket loosens.

"I can hardly believe we have a daughter," she tells him after a while. "I was sort of convinced that we'd have another boy. But, you finally got your girl."

"I was certain she was going to be a boy, too-and truly, I'd have been happy for that." He grins as he gets back into bed with her, carefully edging himself closer to them. "But I say it with no guilt that I'm happy that my guess was wrong."

"Me, too," she admits. "And it'll be nice for Oliver to have a playmate."

"Roland will be _thrilled_ by that development."

"Or disappointed that she can't play sooner," she tells him, grinning as she looks over at him. "He has at least another year of Oliver, the Perpetual Shadow."

Taking a breath, she shifts Charlotte down onto her lap and smiles warmly at her. "And it's a good thing this one was a girl because… I think we're done now." She blinks up at him. "After today, I'm not sure that I could do that again."

"Four is a nice number," he tells her easily. "Two pairs." She shakes her head and looks away, chuckling softly as a grin edges onto his lips. "Besides that, it's getting expensive." At that, Regina's brow furrows as she looks back to him, confused. "Well, as it stands, each of our sons will inherit an estate. Henry will get Dragon Head, Roland will get Sherwood and Oliver will have the lodge, and now-"

"Ah," she murmurs. "No more estates tucked away somewhere?"

He shakes his head. "But she should have the same inheritance as her brothers-"

"You won't just set aside some money for a dowry?"

He blinks, feeling nearly offended. "No."

"Isn't that how it's done?" she asks coyly. "Boys inherit and girls are married off?"

"Perhaps to my father-"

"Well-"

His eyes widen. "Are you implying that I'm like my father?"

"I'm just saying that typically-" She stops and a soft laugh bubbles up from her-and he can't help but feel glad for it, given the scare she and Charlotte had given him that morning. "I'm sorry, implying that you'd ever think along the same lines as your father-even teasingly and even if it's what almost everyone else on the planet thinks-was rude."

"I'll forgive it," he smirks. "And reserve the right to call you Cora on a date that's yet to be determined."

Her brow crumples. "Hey…"

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her cheek. "I'll think of something, but don't be surprised if I buy a little seaside estate."

"That's… out of nowhere."

"Not really," he admits. "There's a property I've been eyeing and-"

"Robin-"

"Since I found out you were pregnant, I've been thinking about this."

"About buying our child _an estate_."

He blinks at her, not quite understanding what's so surprising to her-he's always been so diplomatic about about their children's inheritances, wanting everything to be even between them and never wanting them to feel trapped the way he had underneath the details of his father's will, or worse, to feel the way Regina had felt, trapped by the burden of the expectation placed upon her shoulders.

"You know, my father still owns property in Spain and my grandparents have a house in Cuba that-"

"Our daughter is not moving to Spain and the only way she's ever going to Cuba is if she floats there on my dead body."

Regina giggles and nods. "Well, then, it looks like you're buying a seaside estate."

"That'd actually be fun though," he says, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Having a little get-away to go off to on summer days, sitting on the rocks and watching the kids swim and play, taking walks as the sunsets, sneaking away for our own playtime by the sea." He grins, "You could make little trinkets out of sea glass."

Her eyes roll and he laughs. "You're well aware that crafts aren't my forte," she tell him as a little grin tugs up on her lips. "But aside from the sea glass, that does sound nice."

"Doesn't it?"

She nods as she looks back to Charlotte, sleeping with her arms outstretched from her blanket and one foot peeking out from it "What do you think?" she asks the sleeping infant, pushing her finger tip gently against the little girl's tiny palm. "Would you like a place to go and swim with your brothers?"

He smiles, thinking of Charlotte, a little older and wearing a straw bonnet, standing on the beach, watching her brothers splash and play, giggling as the the tide tickles her toes and he thinks of himself scooping her up and carrying her into the water on his shoulders. It's easy to get lost in the daydream, and it's not until Regina's hand presses to his arm, that he comes back into the present moment and offers her a sheepish grin.

"What?" She murmurs, "All of the sudden you looked a thousand miles away."

He laughs a little, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her hair before gently resting his atop hers and looking down at Charlotte and her little clenched fists. "I'm just happy," he tells her. "Happier than I've any right to be."

A grin pulls onto her lips. "That sounds like something I'd say," she tells him, laughing softly as she looks to Charlotte. "But I'm happy, too."

He kisses her again, watching as her finger traces over Charlotte's little hands-and suddenly, his heart felt so full, brimming with love for them.

Before Regina, he'd never dared to hope for much, and life had taught him to be content with what he had, as it was more than what most were given. But as he looked at Regina holding Charlotte and he thought of their sons, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with emotion because a decision he'd made on a whim-a decision to right a wrong that wasn't his-had been one of the best decisions he'd ever made. And though it wasn't the first time he'd realized this, today-the day of their daughter's birth-was a happy reminder of it, a reminder that happiness was all around him.


	3. Afraid to Lose

It takes her a minute to ease back into the rocking chair by the window, but as soon as she does, she knows it'll be a long while before she gets up again.

For a moment, she just sits there, rocking gently with her eyes closed, ignoring the newly cut-and-sewn stack of flannels sitting on the little table next to the chair. The window is open, and a light breeze that smells faintly of apples from the nearby orchard is coming in, and aside from the wind, everything is quiet and still. A little smile works its way onto her lips as shifts her hips, finding a comfortable position-and as she draws in a breath, her hand falls over the curve of her very-pregnant stomach, and she's glad that the baby has also decided to take a rest.

For days she's been growing increasingly restless, and though she knows that's normal for this stage of pregnancy, it's made Robin extra vigilant.

They've been working on the nursery-something Robin has repeatedly reminded her someone else could do, and something she's repeatedly insisted was something she wanted to do-and it was coming together nicely. The Hunting Lodge had never had a nursery. Robin's father was far too old for one when his father decided to make it his main residence, and the only other child born in that time was Mrs. Potter's son, Christopher-or Chip as everyone called him-and his room had been upstairs in the servants' quarters.

Of course, it was because of Chip's presence in the house that there was anything baby-related at all. In the attic they'd found his crib and the rocker were kept and a little pitcher and basin adorned with hand-painted little ducks, and with a little dusting and refurbishing here-and-there, they were good as new and ready to use.

They'd picked the room across from the boys' room for the baby, just down the hall from their own, and Regina picked out a green and white paisley wallpaper for the walls. Ruby was making new bedding for the crib in various shades of green, yellow, and white fabrics-all of which she'd spent an embarrassing amount of time choosing-and Mrs. Potter had just hung new, bright yellow curtains on the window that morning.

For the most part, Henry had been her helper, eager to do whatever was needed to prepare the baby's room, while Robin hovered and reminded her that they had a staff to do these sorts of things. She didn't mind it, for the most part, and though his worrying could be a bit tiresome, she knew it came from a good place-and she knew his worries stretched beyond her.

Marian's pregnancy was something that weighed heavily on him before she got pregnant, and though this baby was planned, she's fairly certain he was unprepared with how he'd feel as she progressed through the pregnancy. She wasn't even sure if he was entirely conscious of it, but every time something happened-from the first bouts of morning sickness, to the baby's first kick, to the first time she'd felt a little more tired than usual, he couldn't help but compare her experiences to Marian's or to project Marian's onto her.

He didn't talk about it much, but she could see it in his eyes and feel it in his touch-and she could only imagine what it would be like to be in his position-a helpless bystander-just watching as the life drained from someone he loved. Of course, Marian was sick before her pregnancy with Roland, but the pregnancy took years away from her, everyday draining her a little more and a little more, until all that was left was child she'd bore.

Her own experiences with pregnancy were much different, of course, but Robin didn't know that, and how she was feeling and what she'd come to expect as normal was hard for her to convey. With Henry, she hadn't had time to rest. It hadn't been afforded to her, but she'd also been a bit younger, and aside from a few new aches and pains and a bit of discomfort, until that last month, she hadn't felt all that different-and the same was true of this pregnancy, though if anyone saw her now, they'd hardly believe it.

"Mama," Roland's voice calls, in a loud whisper, "Are you sleeping?"

"No," she murmurs, grinning as one eye opens and she turns her head to look at him. "I'm just resting."

"Oh," he says, shifting awkward as he peeks around the frame of the door. "Are you resting because you don't feel good?"

"I'm just taking a break," she tells him, opening her other eye and smiling softly. "I feel fine."

He nods and fidgets with his fingers. "How much longer til the baby comes?"

"About two months."

"Oh," he sighs. "That's a long time."

"It'll go faster than any of us thinks."

Nodding, he chews at his lip. "I… I don't want you to have the baby."

"No?" she asks, sitting up a little. "You don't want a little brother or sister?"

Again, Roland shifts nervously. "No," he admits in a little voice. "I want a mama."

Her chest tightens. They've talked about this before-but no matter how many times they did, seeing that fear in his eyes and hearing it in his voice broke her heart. With Roland, it was similar to how it was with Robin-it didn't matter how many times she tried to reassure him, he still worried, and at five-years old, he couldn't quite understand that gaining a baby brother or sister didn't mean he'd inevitably lose a mother. To him, it was a trade-at best, a gamble-and it wasn't worth the risk.

"Oh, sweetheart," she says, holding out her hand to him. "Come here."

Roland wastes no time coming into the room and climbing into the rocking chair with her, and when he does, he cuddles up to her, nuzzling his face against her shoulder. Pressing a few quick kisses to his hair, her arm wraps around him and she rubs his back, her heart breaking as his fingers clutch the fabric of her dress so hard that his knuckles turn white.

"It's not fair," he says in a shaky little voice, an indication that he's on the verge of tears. "I just got you."

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

"But you don't know that." Her eyes press shut and she draws in a breath, but before she can think of something soothing to say, he lifts his head. "Do you?"

She's not quite sure what to say.

Of course, there's a small chance that something could happen. There were always those stories of difficult births and unforeseen complications, but that wasn't something she could explain to a six-and-a-half year old-and she had to be careful about not implying that this was somehow a choice she could make because if it were choice then it'd have been Marian's choice to leave him.

"You really miss her, huh?"

Roland shrugs, looking away shyly. "No."

"It's alright if you do."

"I can't miss her," he says, sniffling a bit as he reaches for one of the buttons on her dress, his little finger tracing it. "I didn't know her."

"That doesn't mean you can't still miss her," Regina says softly, reaching out and pushing her fingers through his curly hair. "You can still wish you'd gotten to know her."

Roland hesitates, focussing on the button. "I… I don't think she'd want to know me."

"That's crazy. Of course she'd want to know you."

"No," Roland says. "I don't think so."

"And why not?" Regina asks, her voice piquing defensively at the notion that anyone-especially Marian-wouldn't want to know him. "You're pretty stellar, you know that?" He shrugs, still focused on the button. "I mean, you're sweet and you're funny, and you're so smart, and handsome and-"

"I'm the reason she died," he tells her in a voice that's barely audible, his jaw trembling as he looks up. "I heard you and Papa talking about it once."

"Roland, that's not-" She stops, shaking her head as she pulls him to her chest, holding him tightly as she rubs her hand over his back. "It's not your fault," she tells him, holding him a bit tighter. "It's… it's no one's fault."

"But she died," he says, pulling back as tears brim in his eyes. "She died because of me."

"No-"

"She did," he says in a small, barely audible voice. "I heard papa say it."

"That's… that's not what he meant," she says gently. "What happened with you mother was… awful," she tells him. "But it was complicated and it most certainly was _not_ your fault."

"But Papa said-"

"No," she cuts in, shaking her head. "He didn't mean it like that."

Roland's face crumples. He's not listening-and if he is, he's not hearing it. "And _you_ could die because of that baby." His jaw starts to tremble and tears spill over his eyes, and all she can do pull him close to her, rocking him gently as she assures him that everything will work out as it's supposed to, that she'd never willingly leave him and that she loves him-but no matter what she says, it doesn't seem to soothe him. "I don't want to lose you, too," he tells her, pulling back and batting his hands over his eyes. "It wouldn't be fair."

"You're right," she nods, forcing a smile as her chest tightens. "That wouldn't be fair."

He sniffs. "Why do you have to have a baby, anyway?"

A little grin edges onto her lips. "Because your papa and I think you'd make such a fantastic big brother."

"No," Roland says, shaking his head as though this were something that could be taken into account to change the situation. "I don't think so."

"Well, I do."

Again, he sniffs. "But I don't want to be big brother. I like being the little brother. I'm better at that."

"Well, you'll still be the little brother," she explains. "You'll still be Henry's little brother." Pausing, her eyes narrow as Roland's lips tighten, clearly not liking that explanation. "But it'll be different than it is with Henry and you."

"Why?" he asks, his brow furrowing slightly. "Why does it have to be different?"

"Well, you're in a special situation."

Roland shakes his head. "I don't want to be in a special situation. I just want my normal one. I _like_ the way it is now, with me and Henry and Papa and you."

"I like that, too," she admits. "But this special situation is going to be _so much better_."

"Why?"

"Because you get to be a little brother _and_ a big brother. You get the best of both." She grins, watching as Roland considers it. "It's like getting two desserts."

That seems to catch his attention a bit, and he looks up at her, grinning softly though his tears. Leaning in, she kisses his forehead and rubs her finger over his cheeks, brushing away his tears. A little grin edges onto her lips as she kisses his cheek and as a faint hint of a smile tugs up at the corner of his mouth. She giggles softly as she leans in to kiss the other cheek. Again, that faint smile starts to tug at his lips. Her hands find his sides and her lips pepper his face with kisses, and it isn't long before before he's laughing out and squirming, practically screaming as she tickles and kisses him-and then suddenly, they both stop.

Her hand falls to her stomach as the baby kicks-and Roland's eyes widen as he feels it. She takes his hand and places it over her stomach so he can feel. "The baby wants to play, too," she tells him, watching as his hand trembles over the spot where she holds it-and when the baby kicks another time-this time a bit harder- she flinches.

"Is it hurting you?" he asks, his voice tentative and his eyes wide. "Is-" His voice halts as his eyes grow wider and flood with tears, and Regina's brow furrows with confusion. "Is that blood!?"

She looks down at herself, following his gaze to a red spot on her dress-and she can't help but laugh.

"No," she tells him, taking his hand and turning it over so that his palm is faced upward. "I think that's strawberry jam from your sticky hands."

Roland blinks, looking almost stunned-and she watches as relief washes over him, likely remembering the scones and jam Mrs. Beakley had made to go with tea. Somehow, though his relief is heartbreaking and she knows that it'll be short-lived-so she presses a kiss to his palm and tugs him back to her, wrapping her arms around him. He's too big and she's too pregnant for her to cradle him, but she tries it anyway, rocking him in her arms and giving him the love and attention that he's craving-the love and attention he's so afraid to lose.


	4. Happy News

Robin smiles as the carriage pulls up the long path that leads to the Hunting Lodge, and he cranes his neck for a better look as they round the bend. It's only been a week that he's been away, but it feels like it's been so much longer, and already he can tell that things have changed-and, though he always thinks that every season is his favorite, he's positive that these are his favorite changes.

Some of the trees had lost their leaves entirely while the leaves of others have changed from green to golden with little hints of red, and the patch of yellow heliopsis that line the gravel pathway to the red-brick house are in full bloom. Surrounding the trees are red and orange cockscomb, and as they draw closer to the house, he can see long stems of goldenrod peeking up around the sparse bushes at the house's entrance. Drawing in a long breath, he closes his eyes, smelling that distinctly fall scent, mingled with the faint smell of the Russian sage Mrs. Beakley planted in the garden behind the house to ward off little woodland creatures hoping to snack on the squashes, cauliflower, and savoy cabbages she'd planted for autumn meals.

When the carriage pulls up to the front entrance, Winston greets him and John hops out of the carriage to gather his bags and a feeling of _home_ settles in his chest.

"We didn't expect you until tomorrow," Winston says as they walk slowly into the foyer of the house-and when a hall boy comes down to help John with the larger of the trunks, it strikes him how much the house has changed in the last several months.

"We were ahead of schedule," Robin admits. "I just… couldn't wait to be home."

"The boys will be elated, and you'll have to pretend to be surprised tomorrow," Winston says, his voice dropping an octave. "They've planned something special for your homecoming."

"I'm almost disappointed to ruin their plans."

"Almost," Winston repeats, smiling gently. "But not quite."

"Not quite."

"And everything at Sherwood was-"

"Just as its always been. I put in a few orders for some new farming equipment for the spring, moved around some money for new insulation for two of the farms, but I still don't see why _I_ had to attend to it, or why I had to travel all the way there to manage it."

"It is your role in the estate."

Robin shrugs and nods-still, he thinks there was an ulterior motive for his father's request of his presence at Sherwood, but he doesn't quite know what that was. As soon as he arrived, everything became about the estate and its tenant farmers, and it'd taken two days for Richard to ask about how the boys were adjusting to life up north, and another day for him to ask about Regina. He'd gone along with it, spending most of his days in town and meeting with the land's renters, figuring out their needs and trying to meet them in only a week's time. It made the time back at Sherwood go quicker and it kept him busy, and it nearly distracted himself enough to not miss his family-another almost, but not quite.

"Things have run smoothly here," Winston tells him. "Mrs. Potter's in her glory training the new maids."

Robin grins. "Is this the first time this house has had an actual budget?"

"The first that was necessary," Winston says. "It's nice to see the house so full and alive. I like the quiet life, but it was boring after the harvest. Made for a long winter."

"You'll let me know if you need anything else?"

"Of course."

"Are the boys-"

"Out," Winston says. "Maltilde took them out on a nature walk, as she called it. Something about falling leaves and hibernating frogs." A grin pulls onto his lips. "Sleeping dragons, I think she called them."

"All green, slimy things are dragons to my sons."

Winston chuckles and nods. "I don't remember learning about such things when I was their age."

"Neither do I," Robin admits. "By the time I was Henry's age, it was all brimstone and fire, and about being a good Christian boy, unless it meant swindling some poor sap to increase my own wealth." At that, Winston laughs and shakes his head. "But I like that the magic isn't gone for them just yet."

"The other day she had them outside talking about moon patterns and stars and teaching them about why the sky gets darker at night." He grins. "They seemed to enjoy it. Roland painted a moon the next day."

Robin grins. "I look forward to him telling me _all_ about it." Winston nods as Robin looks to the stairs. "Is Regina around or did she tag along with them?"

"Upstairs," Winston tells him. "But-"

Robin doesn't let him finish, instead thanking him as he jogs up the stairs, taking them two at a time. It seems odd that Regina would be in their room in the middle of the day. She wasn't a napper, unless she wasn't feeling well, and if she was spending time inside, it was usually spent in the library or the drawing room. Mostly, though, she followed the boys around or went into the village to volunteer help wherever she could. They took walks on the estate and rode horseback through the woods and into the orchard, sometimes spending a day lost outside. Regina liked to open up the house, and while the Harvest Ball was still the main event, it wasn't uncommon for her to plan picnics and dinners, busying herself and the house staff with the preparations-and it seemed she was always planning something.

The hallway felt oddly still, and he noticed larger the trunk set down outside the door.

"Mrs. Locksley is occupied," the hallboys explains. "John took some of your things to laundry, and the smaller trunk went along with him."

"Ah-" he nods. "Occupied? Is she sick?"

The boy shrugs and Robin dismisses him of his post, promising he'll make sure that no one goes in or out of the room. He waits until the hall boy rounds the corner before he reaches for the doorknob, and when he pushes the door open, he finds that Regina isn't alone.

Doctor Hopper is there with her, packing a stethoscope into his bag as Regina fastens the buttons on the front of a nightdress. Her eyes widen with surprise when she looks up and spots him, and her smile is immediate-and then, it fades, her eyes shifting to the doctor near the hearth.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, keeping an eye on Doctor Hopper as he crosses the room to greet her properly. "Are _you_ alright?"

"I am," she nods as he hugs her to his side and presses a kiss to her forehead. "I missed you."

"And I you," he tells her, his eyes shifting momentarily as the doctor fastens the metal clip on the front of his bag. Doctors always made him feel a little unsettled, and though he liked Doctor Hopper well enough, he didn't like that he was standing in his bedroom, obviously having just attended to his wife who claimed to be fine. "I'm just wondering why… uh…"

"Oh," Regina cuts in, her eyes widening as she looks to him. "Robin, it's-"

"I'll be going," Dr. Hopper says, collecting his bag as he scurries across the room, offering them each a tight smile. "I'll see you soon, Regina."

Regina nods and the doctor pulls the door close, and Robin's brow arches, his stomach flopping with panic as he remembers all of the times doctors visited his bedchamber when he and Marian were married-and remembering how he was never allowed to be there for the examination, how he had to wait and hear her side of it after the doctor had gone, and how likely she'd given him the sugar-coated version to make things seem less dire than they were.

"Regina, are you sure everything's alright?"

"Absolutely," she tells him, her voice resolute. "Everything is… perfect, actually," she says, her cheeks flushing a little as she looks down at herself momentarily, and biting her lip as she looks back to him. "I, um… I'm pregnant."

For a moment, all he can do is stand there as her words swim around in his head-and as he processes them, a slow smile works its way onto his lips, and he can feel it shining through his eyes.

She laughs and her cheeks flush deeper. "It should be showing soon."

"You're… you're sure of it?"

"Doctor Hopper just confirmed it. I've suspected for awhile."

"But you didn't say-"

She shakes her head. "I wanted to be sure."

"You're pregnant."

Regina nods. "I am."

He feels a burst of feeling explode within him-happiness and love, excitement and pride-and he sweeps her up in his his arms, spinning her around as her arms link around his neck and she laughs, the sound breaking apart the quiet stillness of the room.

"I don't believe it," he says, dizzy as he sets her down. "I… don't believe-"

"Well, this can't be _that much_ of a surprise," she tells him. "We've been trying."

"I know, but it's only been a couple of months. I thought-"

Again, she laughs. "Robin, it only takes _one_ time."

"I know, but it doesn't always work that one time and I-"

"You know as well as I do that it wasn't just one time."

Nodding, he laughs as a smile twists onto his lips. "And you're feeling alright?"

She nods. "Just the usual things. Nothing to worry about."

He pulls her back to him, hugging her to him. "I am so happy, Regina. I'm so _excited_. I-"

"Me, too."

He pulls back, still holding her. "Do you need anything? Can I-"

"No," she says, shaking her head. "I meant it. I am just fine."

Leaning up on the tips of her toes, she kisses him-softly and sweetly-and her hand clasps the back of his neck as his hands settle on her hips. He can feel her smiling into the kiss and when she pulls back, a content sigh escapes him.

"I'm going to get dressed," Regina says, her hands falling down his arms and forming around his hands. "What do you say to going on a walk with me?"

He nods-and then stops, his heart beating a little faster as his stomach sinks. "Should you-"

"Robin, I'm fine. The baby is fine. A walk won't hurt either of us." She grins and gives his hands a little squeeze. "The doctor said as much, and Mrs. Beakley told me a little light activity is good for me right now, and it's good for the baby, too."

"But-"

"I am fine, Robin," she cuts in, once more squeezing his hands. "In fact, I am better than fine." A grin creeps onto her lips, and he can't help but smile and nod. "And it'll give us a chance to talk."

"Talk-"

"Yes," she says, nodding as she releases his hands. "We have so much to discuss." Swallowing hard, he makes his best effort to silence the little voice at the back of his head that wonders if they've made a mistake-if the joy this news brings now will only cause sorrow on a later date. "Like what room would be best for a nursery and when to tell the boys, and… and maybe what we'll call it."

A grin edges onto his lips as she turns into her dressing room and once more, excitement bubbles up within him, pushing away any bad feelings and worries as he pictures a sweet little bundle, wrapped up in a blanket in Regina's arms as he brings the boys in to meet their new sister-and it's then that he realizes he'd like them to have a daughter. All of the sudden his thoughts are consumed with little dresses and hair ribbons, bonnets and little dolls. It makes sense to him, given they each have a son already and-

"Is it cold?"

"Hm?"

"Is it cold out," Regina calls from the dressing room, peeking her head out of the open doorway. "I'm just wondering if a light sweater will do or-"

"Take the thicker one," Robin tells her. "It'll get chillier by the woods."

"Alright," she calls back.

He smiles as she disappears fully again into the dressing room, and once more, he finds himself lost in the fantasy of what's to come. He pictures himself and Regina taking their children on a walk by the edge of the woods. He pictures Henry and Roland skipping through the fallen leaves, kicking them up at each other and laughing as he plays a game of bulldogs with them while Regina pushes a pram. He imagines settling for a picnic at the edge of the orchard. They'd have walnut apple sandwiches and drink cider, and the boys would climb trees while he and Regina laid on their backs, watching as the clouds passed, pointing out funny-shaped ones and taking turns trying to make the baby laugh.

"How's this?"

He looks up, snapped back into the present moment by the sound of Regina's voice, and when he looks up, he smiles. She's standing in front of him wearing a light blue dress with little cream colored flowers on it and a matching ribbon just beneath the bust-and as he narrows his eyes, he thinks that maybe he can see the soft curve of her stomach forming beneath it. She's wearing a dark blue sweater and holding onto a straw bonnet, twirling the cream colored ribbon between her fingers-and though she's likely just warm from being dressed in warm clothes while inside, he can't help but notice that she looks like she's glowing.

"Hm?"

"How do I look? Am I dressed appropriately or-"

"You're perfect."

"Robin-"

Her cheeks flush a bit as he crosses the room toward her, gently pulling her in by the hip. "I love you," he says as he draws her closer. "Have I told you that recently?"

She giggles. "Not today. In your last letter, you did."

He grins. "Well, then I should say it again… to make up for lost time." She giggles as he pecks her lips. "I love you."

"So, I take it you're happy with the news?"

"Ecstatic."

"I am, too," she admits, biting down on her lip as she looks up at him, her brown eyes looking so soft and warm. "And, since it's been awhile since I've said it back… I love you, too."

He kisses her again, and then pulls back, his hand finding hers and giving it a little tug as he leads her out of the room, ready for their walk.


	5. Only You

A soft gasp ripples through the crowded ballroom as Regina emerges at the entrance–and though, he can't yet see her, Robin feels his breath catch in his throat as eyes slowly turn from her to him. He takes a few steps forward, the crowd parting as he moves, and by the time he rounds the table, there's an empty pathway that leads from him to her–and at the end of it, Regina is standing there, looking radiant as ever. **  
**

She's wearing a shimmery green-gold dress with white lacy gown sleeves that hug her arms and fan out around her elbows. It's low cut and a bit of cleavage peeks out above the thin lace that lines the front of the dress.

She'd been worried the dress was too scandalous–though it was an older style that would've been perfectly acceptable for their grandmothers to have worn at court–and Belle suggested pairing it with a chunky gold and emerald necklace that matched the embroidered leaves which cascaded down the front of the dress, collecting at the bottom of the skirt. He didn't give much of an opinion on the matter when she'd asked him about it–though, he'd secretly hoped she'd forgo the necklace–and told her that it didn't matter because she'd look stunning either way.

And while that was completely true, now that he was looking at her, he was glad that she'd chosen not to wear the necklace.

Her dark hair is swept up and a few curled pieces hang down around her face, nearly touching her shoulders. Her neck looks so much longer in this style of dress, and as she stands there with her shoulders back, not trying to cover herself up or shrink behind heavy jewelry, he can't help but notice the confidence she exudes.

He feels tears welling in his eyes, his emotion surging as she bites down on her lip and looks around–not quite shy, but not not quite sure of herself–and a quiet little laugh bubbles out of her as she shifts on her feet.

"Papa," Roland murmurs as he tugs at the back of his coat. "She looks _so_ pretty."

Grinning, Robin nods, not taking his eyes off of her. "She does."

"Aren't you supposed to go and get her?" Henry asks. "And dance with her?"

Chuckling softly, he nods–he hadn't quite realized how firmly in place he was rooted or that she was waiting for him. "Oh… right."

He hears both boys giggling as he crosses the ballroom, holding out his hand to her as he nears–and as her fingers touch to his palm, he feels a little jolt, as if until this point he hadn't been certain that any of this were real or part of some wonderfully fantastical dream.

"You look…" He shakes his head as his voice fades and he finds himself struggling for a word that adequately describes her. "You're stunning."

Forming her hand around his, her cheeks flush slightly. "You don't look so bad yourself." Looking down at himself, he laughs softly, shaking his head as he smooths his hand over his green, velvet coat–and as Regina leans in to kiss his cheek, he's very much aware of the sword strapped to his hip. "It's not… too much?" she whispers. "I mean, this whole thing is…"

"Meant to feel like a fairytale."

"I feel a little silly dressed this way."

"You shouldn't," he says, pulling back and holding her at arm's length. "I mean it. You're stunning, and given the gasp that went through this room when you came in, I think it's safe to assume that I'm not the only one who thinks so."

Her cheeks flush a bit deeper and she nods–and in spite of herself, she can't stop her smile.

Admittedly, he wasn't sure what tonight would be like.

After all, they were hosting a party to celebrate their engagement despite already being married. But before he had much of a chance to worry about the look of it or what others might think of it, Mrs. Potter reminded him that as long as good food was being served and the drinks were endless, no one would care why they were attending a party–and then, as he'd nodded and considered her point, she'd admitted that she found the whole thing sweet.

And it was.

The whole thing was planned in a few short weeks–though, he supposed, Regina had been planning this, in part, since she was a little girl.

The engagement party wasn't meant to be themed–not initially–but then they'd been picking out fabrics for tablecloths and a shimmery spool caught her eye. She'd laughed a little as her fingers touched it–and then he watched as her smile faded as she explained it looked similar to the fabric of her grandmother's wedding dress.

At first, he was confused at why it seemed to be an unhappy memory, and then, she'd explained it.

Regina didn't remember her grandmother. She'd died when she was only six, but she did remember feeling sad when she died. Not long after the funeral, a fleet of carriages arrived at Dragon Head with her grandparents' things and she'd watched closely as the footmen carried the trunks up to the attic. She peered around a corner, careful not to let her mother catch her, and she imagined all of the treasures those trunks must've contained.

She'd waited until the carriages left and until her mother had gone to change for tea, before she'd snuck up into the attic and eventually found the dress. Her heart nearly stopped when she heard footsteps on the stairs–and then, to her relief, it was her father who'd discovered her, not her mother.

He'd pulled the dress out of the trunk and hung it up on a mirror so that they could both look at it, and as they did, he pulled her up onto his lap and confessed that he thought his mother would like that her only grandchild admired such an old but beloved dress.

He told her how it'd been specially made in Spain and how it'd been one of his mother's most prized possessions, and then he suggested that perhaps, one day when she was older, she might like to wear it. Wide-eyed she'd nodded and said that she would. Then her father set her back down, and together they'd gone through the rest of the trunk, finding the velvet green coat her grandfather wore and the sword that had been given to his father by King Ferdinand VI.

There were other things in the chest, but as she recounted the story to him, she could no longer remember what they were–though she admitted she'd likely forgotten by the time her father took her down for tea as she'd been so enamored by the wedding dress.

And she had never forgotten it.

Every now and then, she'd sneak up into the attic and try it on–and despite only being a small child, each time, she was hopeful that _this_ time, it might just fit her. Then, when she was twelve, she'd gone up to try on the dress and found Cora was standing there with a row of maids–and her grandmother's things were gone. She'd been numb as she watched the maids dusting the newly opened space and her mother's eyes had narrowed at her, her tongue clicking as she told her that she was far too old for costumes and nursery games.

So, when she spotted the fabric, with his encouragement, she'd bought the entire spool and had Ruby draw up a few sketches. The seamstress had worked endlessly on the dress over the course of the last few weeks, perfecting every last detail and make sure that it fit Regina just right–and though the dress consumed the preparations for the party, he'd never actually seen the finished product.

And now, he found himself glad that he hadn't.

"We should dance," he tells her, rubbing his thumb at the back of her wrist. "I think that's what everyone's waiting for."

"It is," she tells him, nodding and giggling softly as he takes a step back and bows to her–and then, as he pulls himself back up, he takes a few more steps back, pulling her along with him.

They stop at the center of the ballroom, and once again, he's very much aware of how many people are watching. As the music starts to play, he can feel their gazes, but as he stares into Regina's eyes and watches the way she smiles back at him–filled with so much excitement and love–he doesn't feel his nerves setting in as they usually do because all he can see is her.


	6. The Seaside Estate

When they'd moved permanently up to the Hunting Lodge, they'd learned the property's actual name was Deerfield park, and just more than two generations ago, the house was adorned with hunters' trophies. Deer heads hung over mantles in every room, furs hung as tapestries, and there'd been a large elk head in the dining room from a hunting excursion to the Netherlands. Until Robin's grandfather acquired the estate through a card game, the house's sole purpose was to house rowdy men escaping dull existences for a few days of fun. Despite its rustic beginnings, Deerfield had never really fit the house, and still, she and Robin called it the Lodge as they always had. But Henry and Roland wanted to rename the house, so she and Robin had let them, and they chose for it the whimsical title of Apple Blossom Manor for the orchards that spread across the other end of the estate. The staff at the house made a big ordeal of celebrating the renaming of the house, and Winston helped them to burn and paint a new sign to go at the edge of the property-and each time they passed it, the boys would beam proudly at their cleverness and handiwork.

So when Robin acquired the sea-side estate that had sat abandoned since the rebellion in the American colonies, it only seemed appropriate that the younger two children of the family should get to name the new house. At eight months old, Charlotte couldn't contribute much, but Oliver, at nearly two years old had enthusiastically declared it Fishy House. Henry and Roland both giggled at the name, and Charlotte clapped along-as she usually did when her brothers laughed at something-and that had been that.

Fishy House was theirs.

Of course, the proper and legal name of the estate was Stoney Bluff-likely a description of the property the house sat on-but that hardly mattered, and no one ever called it that.

They'd purchased the house in late February of the previous year, and by the time summer arrived, the house was ready for them. They'd spent that summer at the house, enjoying the sunny rooms and the earthy smell of the ivy that covered the house and kept it cool and the soft smell of lilac carried in from the fields just beyond the house.

But the best part of the house was its closeness to the sea, and it seemed as soon as the sun was up, they were wading and splashing in the water. Henry and Roland loved it, and by summer's end, they'd both become quite good swimmers. Oliver was more timid than his brothers, prefering to wade in the water from Robin's shoulders. Usually, Regina settled with Charlotte on one of the great rocks that came up from the water, connecting it to the sandy beach, and she'd giggle and laugh as the tide came up and sprayed them, and watched longingly as her brothers played.

On one particularly rainy day, Henry and Roland helped their younger siblings dip their hands in paint to decorate a new sign for the entrance of the property and spent the better part of an afternoon turning little handprints into fish. Then, in her beautiful handwriting, Mrs. Potter traced the name of the house-both its proper name and its whimsical nickname-for Winston to burn into the wood. When it was done, Henry painted over the burned letters in crisp white and Roland added a bright blue wave to the bottom while Oliver and Charlotte spread out on the cool tile floor of the kitchen, covered in paint as they napped.

The sign was the last thing they saw as they left the estate for the summer, and then it was the first thing they saw when they returned the following spring to open up the house and prepare it for summer that was to come. Typically, such work would be done by the staff-and since moving permanently to the lodge, there was more than enough staff to spare a couple of maids and footmen for a week or two. But they'd decided to do it themselves, deciding they could treat it as a little get-away for just the two of them-and though leaving the boys was a struggle, by the third day, Regina was glad they'd decided to do it this way.

The first day had been dedicated to setting up the nursery. Regina washed the bedding for Oliver and Charlotte's cribs and Robin had washed down the walls and unshuttered the windows. Ruby made them each a new set of sheets, so those were put out on the bed, and when their summer quilts were dry, they were set atop them. Oliver's set was a soft green calico and Charlotte's was made from the same fabric just in purple. Mrs. Potter had used some of the extra fabric to make bows for their stuffed bears-new, fuzzy brown ones that would be waiting to help quell them when they cried because they missed their beds at home.

The second day was spent on Henry and Roland's room, and she and Robin spent the better part of the day hauling trunks down from the attic, sorting them, and making a list of things the boys needed for the summer. It was a bit bittersweet as she realized the cream-colored breeches that Henry spent most of last summer in would no longer fit, and though they were too small for him, they were still a bit too big for Roland. The same went for socks and shoes, and she made a mental note to talk to Ruby about picking out some light fabrics for each of them before summer officially came around.

Robin finished their room while she went down to the cool, stone kitchen, scrounging together some sort of diner for the both of them. Without anyone around, there was no need to keep up appearances, so they ate their pan-fried fish and potatoes standing barefoot at the counter-and then, after cleaning up, they'd retired to bed, falling asleep almost instantly as a soft night breeze tangled in the sheer curtains and swept the soft scent of lilac and the sea into the room.

"Hey," Robin murmurs, whispering loudly in her ear as he perches himself on her shoulder. Grumbling, she turns her head into the pillow, her brow furrowing at the achiness of her arms and legs and scowling at the bright sun that's pouring into the room. "Regina, I know you're awake."

"Not because I want to be."

He laughs softly and presses his hand to her arm. "I think we should take a day off-or at least the morning."

"Then the best way to do that would be to let me sleep in."

"I disagree."

Her brow arches as her head turns on the pillow. "I wasn't looking for an opinion."

Robin laughs and in spite of herself a hint of a grin edges onto her lips. "Come on. Let's go."

"Go?" she asks, confused. "Robin, I'm- I'm not dressed. This nightdress isn't-"

"You don't need to be dressed."

She sits up a little and looks at him, her brows arched. "I know we live in the middle of nowhere, but-"

"It's not like I'm asking you to run outside naked with me," he cuts in-then a smirk forms. "Though that sounds a bit more enjoyable than-"

"Robin-"

"Let's go swimming."

She blinks, pulling herself up a bit more. "Swimming," she repeats. "You're insane. It's not even summer and-"

"It's going to be _hot_ today," he tells her. "It already is, and what better way to cool yourself down and soothe those achy limbs than a dip in the ocean."

She wants to protest, but she's still groggy and a bit confused, and before she can come with some sort of smart retort, Robin is reaching for her hand and scrambling up from the bed. He pulls her up with him and she can't help but laugh as he leads her out of the bedroom and down the long hall to the main staircase-and then, he picks up the pace as they trot down the stairs and out the front door. She laughs out as the warm breeze sweeps up around her as his pace again picks up, making her run to keep up as they cross the lawn and the lilac field beyond it, weaving between the bushes in no pattern that makes any sense. Her nightdress sticks to her legs and falls down one of her shoulders as her hair blows around her face-and all she can do is run with him and laugh.

As they reach the beach, Robin again picks up the pace, dragging her along behind him as he runs toward the water. They slip in the sand, but still she holds his hand, letting him lead her into the ocean, and then, when he's about knee deep, he stops abruptly, turning to face her and lifting her into his arms before falling back into the water.

Momentarily, they sink down underwater and that's when he lets her go, letting her float up to the top. Breathing out, she stands up, finding the water is now just above her waist-and as she combs her fingers through her hair, she watches as Robin emerges from the water. He pulls off his shirt and tosses it to a nearby rock before grinning coyly at her then lunging toward her. She takes a few steps back, floating away from him and laughing when he misses her by mere inches. She succeeds in evading him a few more times, and when he finally catches her, he pulls her into a kiss-leaving her breathless as he drops her back into the water and again, making her laugh.

They spend the rest of the morning splashing and playing in the water, carefree and uninhibited. When the sun is high, she looks up at it, shivering despite the heat, and watching as Robin floats on his back, gently kicking his feet and propelling himself around in a little zig-zag pattern. She pulls herself up into one of the rocks and gathers her nightdress around her hips as she rings out its skirt. It occurs to her that she could just take it off, but she likes the cool, wet linen against her skin as the sun warms it, so she leaves it as it is.

Drawing in a long deep breath, she slides her hands back against the rock and closes her eyes, tipping up her chin as she suns herself-and for a moment, she wonders if she's ever felt this at peace.

Then, she hears Robin splashing toward her.

Grinning, she opens one eye, watching as he nears, shifting himself so that he can stand next to the rock. He grins a bit slyly as his eyes linger over her bare legs, and she finds herself biting down on her lip as his eyes trail up the rest of her body. He smiles as their eyes meet and he slips a hand underneath her arched legs, pulling her a little closer. His other hand rests on the small of her back as she reaches out, letting her hand coast up over his stubbly cheek, and she licks her lips as he leans in for a kiss.

Robin shifts himself a bit closer, tightening his hold on her and cradling her-and for a moment, she thinks he might climb up into the rock with her. But then, he chuckles softly against her lips as his hold on her once more tightens, and before she can even wonder, he lifts her off the rock, pulling her into the water again.

She laughs, linking her arms around his neck as their kiss breaks. Robin leans in again, his lips brushing teasingly over hers and his fingers trailing up her thighs, gathering her night dress up over her hips as they move upward-then in one fluid motion, he pulls the thin, wet garment off of her and tosses it up onto the rock. Her legs wrap around his hips as his lips come crashing down on hers-and though she won't admit it to him, he was right. This is a much better way to spend their morning.


	7. Make It Okay

Another Harvest Ball was coming up quickly on the calendar and the entire house was busy and bustling.

Ruby had already finished Regina's new dress-a pretty gown of icy blue and lavender-and the staff at the Hunting Lodge had already begun to hang the decorations in the ballroom. Everyday, gallons and gallons of cider were being hauled away from the orchard and every meal involved something apple flavored. In town, banners and pennants were hung and, after a long season of work, the mood was light and early celebrations at Chip Potter's pub had already begun.

Henry and Roland were itching to make use of the lawn games that were already set up, Oliver was making a habit of tiptoeing down to the kitchen and charming his way into dessert samples from Mrs. Beakley; and much to everyone's dismay-especially the maids and footmen-two-year old Charlotte wanted to be involved in everything.

It was still warm outside-likely one of the last truly nice days of the year-and she and Robin had planned to go for a ride in the woods. They decided they'd saddle up all the horses and hitch a wagon to Robin's for Charlotte and Oliver to ride in, and they already knew Henry and Roland would beg for a stop at the mill for a snack and a drink before heading into town to check out this year's festivities. Since moving up to the Lodge full time, the budget for the house expanded dramatically, but most of the money that would typically be used to run an estate of its size was funneled into the surrounding town-and so, each year, the Harvest Ball got bigger and better, and more exciting.

But as Regina peeks her head into the nursery, the instant her eyes fall upon Charlotte, she knows none of that will be happening today-at least not for her and Charlotte.

The little girl is standing in her crib, her bottom lip is pouted out, and her hand is clamped over her left ear. Her nose is red and runny, and her brown eyes are wide and teary.

"Mama," she calls out, holding her hand out to her mother. "Fix it."

"Oh, sweetheart," Regina coos as she comes into the nursery and reaches for her daughter. "You're not well." She lifts her into her arms and combs her fingers through her hair. "Come here."

"Make it better," Charlotte says, her little jaw trembling. "Please."

Regina frowns and she leans in and presses a kiss to her daughter's forehead.

They've been working on that, asking please, and only two night before, Robin explained to her that her brothers-particularly Oliver-would much more inclined to share his toys if she asked permission first. However, to Charlotte, that still didn't make a whole lot of sense and the _please_ would usually come several minutes after she'd snatched something away from her brother. She was also under the impression that _please_ would lead to a _yes_ -and while that was frustrating when it came to sharing toys and asking for permission to do things, it was heartbreaking now.

"Mama," Charlotte says again, this time tugging at Regina's night dress. "I say please."

"I know, sweetheart."

"Please."

The little girl's eyes widen as her grip tightens.

"Okay, okay," Regina murmurs as she turns them out of the nursery. "Let's see what we can do."

When she arrives back in the bedroom, she tugs the cord to call for Belle, and a few minutes later, Belle is standing before them taking down instructions to make apple cider vinegar ear drops and to prepare a lavender bath. Once the maid disappears, Regina gets into bed and cuddles Charlotte to her.

She rocks her in her arms and sings her nursery rhymes and songs-and between sniffles and tears, Charlotte laughs when Regina messes up a song about a little dragon, looking up at her with a serious expression as she says _that's not how Henny sings it_.

Regina smiles and drops a kiss to the top of her head, then tries again-and Charlotte just sighs and shakes her head as she cuddles in closer. With a soft chuckle and another kiss, Regina switches to humming and she feels Charlotte relaxing in her arms.

The little girl's hand is still clasped over her ear and the other holds on tightly to her mother's nightdress.

Looking up, Regina's eyes focus on the door, watching as it slowly opens and Robin's head peeks in. Their eyes meet and Regina frowns as she nods down to their sick daughter, cuddled up against her. _An ear ache_ Regina mouths, as Robin comes in, carrying with him a little tray.

"One of these things smells foul and the other smells like it'd be tasty over fowl." Robin laughs to himself as Regina smirks and rolls her eyes. He comes toward the bed and sets the tray on the nightstand. "Belle is getting some things ready for her bath."

"Good," Regina murmurs, looking to the tray. "Is there an eyedropper?"

Robin nods as he sits down on the edge of the bed beside them. He reaches for the eye dropper and holds it up for Regina to see. "Which one?"

"Apple cider vinegar." Robin's eyes narrow and he bites down on his lip, looking to the tray. "The one that smells bad."

"Ah-"

"Is there a cloth?"

"Several."

"Good," Regina murmurs, watching as Robin dips the eyedropper into the little glass bowl. "We're going to wake her."

Robin frowns. "How long has she been awake?"

"She was already up when I went in to wake her," Regina says as she looks down at Charlotte. "Up and miserable."

"Poor baby," Robin says, lifting the eyedropper and looking to Regina. "Now what?"

"We have to drop it into her ear for a couple of minutes-"

"She's going to fuss-"

Regina frowns. "I know."

"But she looks so-"

"Cute and calm?"

Robin chuckles softly and nods, reaching out and gently stroking the back of two of his fingers to Charlotte's hand. "It's a nice change from the tornado she usually is." Regina holds her breath as the little girl stirs, her face scrunching as a displeased little grunt escapes her. Robin frowns as Charlotte curls closer to Regina. "Come on, sweetheart," he coos in a soft, sing-song voice. "Let Daddy see your ear."

'He'll fix it," Regina whispers, ducking down and kissing her head. "Daddy will make it better."

Charlotte looks to Robin who offers her a bright smile and an overly enthusiastic nod. "I promise."

"Can you sit up a little?"

Sniffling, Charlotte nods, letting Regina pull her up. Regina wraps her arm around her, settling her legs over her lap and cocooning in her the crook of her arm.

"Okay, here goes-" Charlotte's eyes widen at the sight of the eyedropper, and Regina's hold on her tightens. A scream escapes her and Robin grimaces, pulling the dropper away from her and looking to Regina. 'Sweetheat, I promise-"

"No!"

"You'll feel better if-'

"No!" Charlotte presses her eyes closed and turns her head into Regina's chest, clasping her hand lightly over her ear. Her cries get louder and her tears flow freely, soaking her mother's nightdress as she clutches to it. "Please, no," she sobs, her little fingers tightening their grip.

"I hate this," Robin says, looking to Regina. "I absolutely hate this."

Unsurprisingly, of all their children, Charlotte has never been good about taking medication, regardless of how poorly she feels, regardless of how many times they promise it'll be painless, no matter how many times they assure her they won't hurt her.

Reaching out, Robin presses a hand to her little back and begins to hum, slowly rubbing as she cries-and slowly, but surely, her sobs turn to sniffles. Robin continues to hum, grinning up at Regina as he leans in and presses a fluttering kiss to Charlotte's cheek. He continues humming and he walks his fingers up her arm. He tickles her, and though she won't look up at him, Regina sees a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of Charlotte's mouth.

Regina reaches for the cloth and Robin lifts the dropper, still humming as he strokes the little girl's arm and hand. He pecks the back of her hand as he slips a finger underneath it, pulling it gently away from her ear. He turns it over and drops a kiss to her palm, blowing a raspberry, that momentarily makes a little giggle bubble of her. He grins, looking up at Regina as he continues to hum, and he leans in, nuzzling her cheek and sneaking in a kiss-and then, Regina holds her a little tighter as Robin drops the apple cider vinegar into her ear.

Regina's heart swells as a smile draws onto her lips as Charlotte gasps a little, and though her eyes widen and she looks surprised, she doesn't cry.

Robin looks up in triumph as Regina pushes the cloth to her ear, counting to sixty as she gently rocks her-and then, when she reaches a minute, she tips her to the side, letting the apple cider vinegar drain out of her ear and onto the cloth.

"See? That wasn't so bad," she says, as Charlotte frowns and lifts her head.

"You were such a brave girl, too," Robin tells her. "Can you be brave just one more time?"

"One?"

"Just one more time."

"Please," Charlotte says, her lip stiffening bravely.

Robin grins as Charlotte's jaw tightens and her shoulders square, and Regina continues to rock her gently as he fills the ear dropper with the onion and garlic oil.

"You'll have to lay still with this one-"

Charlotte frowns. "But-"

"It'll fix you up," Regina says. "You have to be still to let it work."

Charlotte's frown deepens, but she nods. "Please."

"Good girl," Regina says, hugging her to her chest as she shifts the little girl's legs to either side of her. "Okay," she whispers, "Daddy's ready. Are you?"

Charlotte nods. "Please."

"Alright," Robin says, looking between Regina and Charlotte, "Here goes."

Regina tips Charlotte's head to the side, stroking her hair as she holds her still, and Robin drops in the oil.

Charlotte's face scrunches as she looks up at Regina. "Don't like it," she whines. "No. No, please."

"I promise," Regina says, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her head. "You'll feel better soon."

"Please-"

"I promise."

"All done," Robin tells her, "Now you just have to wait for it to work."

Regina watches as Charlotte looks to him, her little fingers holding on a little tighter to Regina's nightdress, as her jaw quivers. "All done?"

Robin looks to Regina and she nods, then a grin edges onto his lips as he nods. "All done. I promise."

Frowning, Charlotte nods and turns her face back to Regina's chest, snuggling in as a little whimper escapes her. Robin hands Regina a clean cloth from the tray, and Regina presses it to Charlotte's ear, this time to try and keep the oil in so that it can work its magic.

"This works?"

"Usually."

Robin nods as he rubs Charlotte's back, and for awhile, he just sits there, humming softly.

Regina can feel her drifting to sleep, her sniffles becoming quieter and quieter, and her grip loosening.

"Should I tell the boys we aren't going today?" Robin asks in a whisper as he looks up at her. "We could go another day, when Charlotte's feeling better."

"No," Regina murmurs, shaking her head. "It's a gorgeous day and they're looking forward to it." Robin looks guilty down at their sick and sleeping toddler, and Regina reaches for his hand, giving it a little squeeze. "Charlotte and I will be fine here," Regina tells him. "I'll give her her bath and we'll take a nap and read stories, and I'm sure Mrs. Beakley will make us some soup." She grins. "You go and have a nice day with the boys."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

Robin hesitates, but nods-and Regina's heart flutters gently as he stands and presses a kiss to the top of Charlotte's head, telling her that he loves her and hopes she's feeling better soon. Then, as he pulls back, he offers Regina a guilty little smile.

"The boys are waiting," Regina reminds him.

"I know, I just hate leaving when she's unwell."

"She'll be okay," Regina tells him. "And until then, I am going to enjoy the snuggles while they last."

Robin laughs as Regina cuddles Charlotte a little closer, understanding that moments like these are increasingly few and far between.


	8. A Change of Heart

Regina stands in the window watching as her sons disappear into the woods, craning her neck to see Roland's horse's tail swish just once more before they vanish.

For weeks now, she's been delaying this, delaying letting the boys go off alone on their horses. Robin's reminded her again and again that the orchard isn't far off and that they'll be back at the house long before the sun sets, and Mal has assured her they've ridden the trail enough to know the way without getting lost. They've both reminded her that Henry's a skilled rider now and that Roland's getting better and more confident every day, and though she knows all those things to be true, there's something about watching them go off on their own that doesn't sit well with her.

They're growing up and it's all happening too fast.

Soon, there will be a time when they don't need her, and not long after that, a time when they set off on their own and don't come back.

Swallowing hard, she pushes away those thoughts and reminds herself that her sons are merely riding their horses to the orchard to climb trees and eat apples. They'll be home before dusk. They'll be home in time for dinner, and they'll still ask for a story before bed. They're still little boys who need her, even if they're growing up.

A laugh from down the hall interrupts her thoughts, and she's glad for it. Turning, she looks in the direction of the sound, smiling faintly.

Winnie–Winifred–is Mrs. Potter's two-and-a-half year old granddaughter and their houseguest for the next two days while her parents prepare for her new sibling. It'd come up a few days before, when Chip brought her for a visit with her grandmother. At some point over a cup of tea, Chip confessed to his mother that neither he nor Anna were quite sure what they'd do with their girl when the time came. And from there, it'd been decided–Winnie would stay at the Lodge…

She must be awake from her nap, Regina thinks to herself as she makes her way down the hall to the girl's room.

They didn't have a proper nursery at the house, so they'd hastily fashioned one.

They'd moved in a child-sized bed that sat abandoned in a dusty old room and washed the linens that fit it. They pushed it up against a wall and shoved a short bookcase up against the other side to keep her from rolling out of the bed–and though it looked like a terrible contraption, Winnie enjoyed it and wasted no time placing her doll and bonnet on the shelves.

Regina peeks into the room, fully expecting to see the toddler sitting up in her bed playing with her doll, but what she finds is so much more endearing.

Winnie has been up from her nap for some time, and Robin is with her. They're both sitting on the floor with one of the nicest porcelain tea sets they own sitting between them, and Winnie is serving them 'tea'."

"Extra honey in mines," she tells him.

Regina's heart aches as she watches Robin lift the cup, pretending to smell the tea. "I can't wait to try it," he tells her.

The little girl beams, lifting an empty plate. "Biscuits," she says.

"Oh, how did you know?" he asks, pressing his hand to his chest. "These are my favorites." He pretends to take one, then looks to Winnie's doll. "You must try one." He looks to Toulouse, Roland's orange cat that sits opposite the doll, looking interested as the plate is passed around. "You, too. You'll love them."

Winnie holds the plate out to her doll, then grins and pulls it back and offers it to Toulouse who sniffs the plate in confusion. "For you," she says, nodding as if she's in conversation with the cat.

"They're so good," Robin says, reaching to the plate. "I think I'll have another."

"Yes, please," the little girl says, looking quite pleased that her guests are enjoying her tea and biscuits.

Regina takes a step back, drawing in a breath as soon as she's out of earshot. Her eyes are teary and her chest is tight, and she's not quite sure why that is. Perhaps it's about Henry and Roland growing up, perhaps it's seeing Robin looking so happy and content having a tea party with Winnie–but whatever it is, it awakens something in her, something that was never entirely asleep.

She takes another breath and pushes away those thoughts.

She's been thinking them a lot lately, despite trying not to. When Henry decided he doesn't need her for his baths, when Roland started to sit beside her as they read instead of climbing into her lap, when they visited the village and the boys ran ahead rather than holding onto her hands, when Anna told her that she was pregnant with Winnie, when she saw Robin hold Chip and Anna's little girl for the first time…

Those feelings have been cropping up more and more, and she's not quite sure what to do with them.

So, she pushes them back and heads down the hall to her room.

But she can't quite focus, and her thoughts travel with her.

She's long known that Robin wants more children. They haven't talked about it in years, now–not since the very beginning–and he's likely accepted that there will be no more children in their lives.

Every now and then, she can tell that he thinks of it–thinks it, but never says it.

He's happy–they're happy–with what they have.

And yet, here she is thinking about what it might be like to have another child.

She didn't enjoy being pregnant the first time around; but she can't deny her circumstances are quite different now. She's not a scared teenager anymore. She's not alone, and she'd have no reason to hide it. And now, she knows what to expect.

The pregnancy would be temporary.

What would follow would change their lives–and she can't help but think, now, in their particular moment, that their lives would be changed for the better.

She envisions holding the child for the first time, what it'd be like to feel its little fingers wrap around hers, what it'd be like to go through all those wonderful, incredible firsts again–laughs and smiles, steps and words–and to see the child's personality take shape. She wonders if the baby would look more like her or like Robin, if she'd see Henry and Roland in their younger sibling, and whether it'd be a boy or a girl. She thinks about cuddling her baby after a bath and singing it to sleep, she thinks about holding its hands as it toddles around the house.

And she thinks about what it'd be like to experience all of that with Robin by her side. There was no doubt that he'd dote on their child, just as he did with the children they already had.

When they first married, his interest in Henry was immediate.

A week or so after their wedding, when she was still so unsure, Robin asked to take Henry on a walk. It was just the two of them–Roland stayed behind with the nanny–and she stood in the windows, watching as her new husband walked the grounds with her son. He held his hand and when it seemed he had something important to discuss, he got down, crouching, so that he and Henry were eye-to-eye. When Henry returned that day, she asked what Robin had said to him. Henry smiled and shrugged and said it was a secret. He didn't seem upset; instead, he seemed more content and comforted than he had in previous days.

A few months later, she stood in the same windows, watching as Robin lifted Henry onto his shoulders. Henry and Roland were playing some sort of game and Henry's shoe caught on a branch. Her heart leapt into her throat as Roland stopped, watching as Henry tumbled forward; then, seemingly out of nowhere, there was Robin, lifting Henry up and tickling his sides before he even thought to cry.

He was a natural father and he loved their children.

He took an active interest in being a father.

As the boys grew older, Robin's relationship with them shifted. Instead of games of tag on the lawn, he took them on rides in the woods, they played hide-and-seek, and he taught them how to shoot a bow and arrow. Their conversations over dinner were less often about mythical dragons and more about the things they were learning–and though she was glad that her sons were growing into thoughtful young men, she missed the innocence of their younger years.

And how short those younger years had been.

The door opens and she spins around, blinking back the tears she didn't even realize had welled up in her eyes as Robin enters.

"You–" His voice halts and his head tips. "Are you crying?"

"No," she murmurs, pushing her thumbs beneath her eyes to rid herself of her tears. "I'm just… being stupid."

Robin's eyes narrow. "Anything you want to talk about?"

She holds her breath, wondering if it's finally time to say it, finally time to admit what she's been thinking about for the last several months. But once she admits it, it'll be out there and she won't be able to take it back.

"I saw a bit of the tea party you and Winnie were having," she says instead.

His smile is immediate. "She makes a lovely cup of tea."

Regina nods. "You seemed to enjoy it."

"They're so much fun at that age," Robin muses. "So full of imagination."

Regina nods in agreement as her words catch in her throat.

"Roland liked forts," Robin says, chuckling softly. "Nothing beat making a big fort."

"For Henry it was dragons–always dragons."

"That doesn't surprise me a bit."

"No," she grins–remembering the puppet shows Daniel used to put on for him and the toy dragons Robin made for him.

"You seem sad, though."

"I'm not. I was just… thinking."

"And what you were thinking about made you sad?"

Biting down on her lip, she shrugs. "I don't know, honestly." Taking a breath, she turns to the bed and sits down on the edge, folding her hands in her lap as she fumbles with her fingers. "It's just lately… I've been thinking and…" She sighs and looks up at him, watching as he looks at her with concerned eyes. "It's nothing."

"It's something," he counters. "And that something's upset you."

"I'm not upset. I'm just conflicted."

"Over what?"

She grins at his concern, wondering if maybe saying the words will make her feel better. She hesitates again and looks away, not wanting to see hope fill his eyes only to be dashed by her inability to decide what she wants. "I… I've been thinking that… that maybe we should consider having a baby."

Her eyes shift to him, watching as his eyes widen and a goofy grin spreads over his lips–and in spite of herself, she can't help but smile. "You want–"

"I don't know," she cuts in, not letting him finish the question. "Maybe."

"Maybe–"

"Yes–"

Robin draws in a breath and slowly releases it as he pushes his hand into his hair. He's trying not to get ahead of himself, trying not to get too excited. "What changed your mind?"

"I… I don't know," she tells him. "A hundred little things."

He nods. "And what about–"

"All the reasons I didn't want to have another child?"

"I mean, nothing's really changed in that regard."

"No," she murmurs, "That's true. They're just… all more distant now."

"Out of sight and out of mind."

"Yes," she agrees, nodding. "And other factors are weighing a little more heavily."

He draws in another breath. "Such as?"

"Such as the fact that I can't stop thinking about what it'd be like to have another child, to go through all those wonderful firsts again, and to experience all those things with you."

He nods, grinning as he shifts on his feet. "That sounds… like you're not so conflicted."

Nodding, she bites down on her lip. It does sound that way. "Perhaps I'm less conflicted than I realized."

She lets her eyes meet his and for a moment, she just stares at him, watching as he tries to contain his excitement–and then, all of the sudden, in a burst, she laughs out. She feels lighter than she did before, her thoughts weighing far less heavily and though only a handful of minutes have gone by, it's hard to remember why she was conflicted at all.

"I want us to have a baby," she tells him, her voice decisive yet light. "That is, if you also want that."

"I do," he's quick to say. "You know that I do."

She laughs again as she stands, her head spinning with the turn around of her own feelings–and before either of them can say anymore, Robin is in front of her and reaching for her. He lifts her up and spins her around, laughing with her as they enjoy the moment.

They'll talk about the rest later, she decides. For now, they'll just enjoy the moment.

Robin sets her down, taking her face in his hands and drawing her in, offering a sweet kiss that leaves her even dizzier than before.

There's no turning back now, she realizes.

And what a freeing realization that is.


	9. Big Brothers

Robin stands impatiently at the library's window, watching as Dr. Hopper's carriage pulls down the gravel pathway to that leads to and from the lodge. His hands are shoved into his pockets and he's rocking back and forth on his heels. Any moment now, Regina will be joining him with the doctor's report.

Dr. Hopper had been at the Lodge only a few weeks before to give them the happy news that Regina was pregnant-and he'd yet to come down from his high.

For months, they'd been trying to conceive a child. They'd done away with all the precautions they'd been taking and did their best not to overthink every little thing. Neither wanted to get their hopes up or boost their expectations too high, and Regina kept the earliest signs a secret, telling even herself there was a chance that they'd amount to nothing. But little by little, all the things she'd dismissed were harder to ignore, and while he was on a trip down south to Sherwood, Regina wrote to Dr. Hopper. He'd written back and set up an appointment-appropriately, for the day Robin was set to return to the Lodge-and he'd confirmed what she'd suspected.

Regina was pregnant.

For a few weeks, it'd been their secret. From the moment he knew of the pregnancy, he'd been ready to shout it from the rooftops and tell the world, but Regina wanted to wait. She said she wanted to be sure and reminded him that early on, anything could happen-and then, she'd grinned and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as she whispered in his ear that it might be fun, just for a little while, to have a secret that only they knew.

He was fairly certain that Mrs. Beakley had figured it out, and if she knew, then surely Regina's father knew. But if they knew, they remained coy.

"Things went well," Regina says, coming into the library. "Dr. Hopper said the baby's heartbeat is strong. The baby seems healthy."

"That's good-" he says, his chest tightening as a smile pulls onto his lips. "And you-"

"Good, too," she tells him easily. "I'll be showing soon."

He nods. Already, there's a little bump. Regina hasn't said much about it, but he can't help but notice it. It's just a soft curve that's usually hidden away beneath her dresses. Every now and then, he catches a glimpse of it. Regina's

been patient with him touching her-pressing his hand to her abdomen as he leans in for a kiss or stroking his fingers over it as they lay together in bed. But the thought of it becoming more apparent-the thought of being able to soon feel the baby moving inside of her-makes him smile.

"We should probably tell Henry and Roland soon."

Robin nods. "That's going to make it real." He offers her a sheepish little laugh. "Not to say it's not already-"

"I know what you mean," she interjects, grinning as she holds out her hand to him. "When do you think we should tell them?"

Taking her hand, he pulls her to him, his mind mapping out the rest of their day-a nap together while the boys have their mathematics and German lessons with Mal, a walk before dinner, and then maybe they could tell them at dinner. "Well, we can tell the boys after they-"

"Tell us what?" Henry's voice asks as they both spin to face him.

"Yeah," Roland echoes. "Tell us what?"

Regina looks back at him, her eyes wide and a grin pulling over her lips as she shrugs. "Should we?"

"Well, I think we have to now," he replies, chuckling softly as he watches the boys' brows furrow. "Why don't you two have a seat," he says, motioning to the couch.

Reaching behind herself, Regina takes his hand, leading him to the couch. The boys sit on one end and they sit on the other, and for a moment, they both seem at a loss.

"Are we in trouble?" Roland asks, looking to Henry. "Because I didn't mean-"

"Roland-"

"No," Robin murmurs, his eyes narrowing. "You're not in trouble, but I'm getting the impression that maybe you should be."

Henry's eyes roll and he sighs. "Roland tracked in some mud."

"It was an accident."

"Except that it wasn't," Henry tells them, looking pointedly back at his younger brother. "Mal told us to take off our boots." Looking back, Henry shrugs. "So, I did… unlike someone."

Roland frowns. "There were warm cookies in the-"

"Alright," Regina interjects, cutting him off. "I… think we can fix this problem quite easily."

"And by we," Robin adds, looking to Roland. "She means you."

"I know," Roland sighs. "I figured that."

Regina laughs and he shakes his head-and then Henry clears his throat. "You wanted to tell us something," he says, bringing them back into the moment. "But _someone_ interrupted."

"Actually, I interrupted," Roland says unncessarily.

Henry's eyes narrow. "That's not something you should be proud of doing."

"I was just clarifying."

"Moving on," Robin says, elevating his own voice over the boys. "We do have something to tell you."

The boys exchange a look. "It's a good something," Regina says. "Well, at least we think so."

"A very good something," Robin agrees, nodding to Regina and feeling his grin spreading wider.

Immediately, Roland's face brightens. "Are we getting a puppy!?"

"Uh... no," he hears himself say as he looks to Regina who is already shaking his head. "It's not a puppy."

"So, we _are_ getting something?" Henry asks, looking curiously between them. "A good something."

Roland frowns. "It can't be that good if it's not a puppy."

"I… don't think Toulouse would like a puppy," Regina says. "I think he likes-"

"I think he'd like having a playmate," Roland tells her, looking quite serious. "One his size."

"A puppy would be bigger," Henry says, his brow furrowing. "Then he'd be _a lot_ bigger than Toulouse when he grew up."

Roland blinks. "Not if we get a little dog."

"But then-"

"We're not getting a dog," Robin says, cutting in impatiently.

Regina laughs and shakes her head as she sits on the arm of the couch, looking to him with smiling eyes. "No, we're… getting a baby."

Roland's face scrunches. "From where?"

Robin chuckles as Henry's eyes roll.

But it's Regina who clarifies.

"Well, I'm having one," she says as her smile brightens. "By late spring, you'll have a new baby brother or sister."

Robin holds his breath, waiting for the boys to react-and then his heart skips a little beat as Henry cracks a smile. Henry fires a slew of questions, his excitement growing more and more apparent with each question. He wants to know if they _really_ have to wait until the baby's born to know the gender and if he can hold the baby when its born. He wants to help set up the nursery and is worried about his mother's well-being, offering tea and promising not to make too much noise if she needs to nap. He's curious about what they'll call it and who it'll look more like-and again, Robin feels his heart flutter when Regina admits she hopes the new baby will have Robin's blue eyes.

Then, finally, Roland chimes in.

"I don't want a baby," he says in a small voice, his eyes focused on his hands in his lap. "I like things the way they are."

Robin frowns looking to Regina whose eyes are on Roland. "It's… not really an option at this point," he tells him. "It's a done deal."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"That's true," Regina says softly as she reaches out and tips up Roland's chin. "You don't have to like it."

Sinking down in front of the boys, Robin focuses on Roland. "I'm… kind of surprised," he admits as Roland looks to him. "You love baby animals, and you like Winnie."

"Winnie doesn't live here," Roland tells him. "She's not ours."

"But wouldn't it be better if-"

"No," Roland says in a shaky voice. "It's not _better."_

"Babies are fun," Henry says, looking to Roland beside him. "You like playing with Winnie."

Roland's bottom lip pouts out. "I like playing with puppies more."

"But-"

Roland's eyes are filled with tears as he looks up. "Can I be excused? I don't feel well."

"You were fine when-"

"Of course, sweetheart," Regina says, her voice rising over Henry's. "Go up to your room and lie down for a little while. I'll come check on you in a bit."

Roland doesn't hesitate, and Robin sighs as he disappears up the stairs, and almost helplessly, he looks to Regina. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize," she insists. "It's… not personal. It's just… how he feels right now."

"Well, _I'm_ excited," Henry says, grinning a bit awkwardly as he looks between them.

Regina grins and he reaches out and pats Henry on the back. "We know you are," he tells him. "And we're so glad you are."

"I think he'll come around. He just needs a little time to get used to the idea of it," Regina says, grinning as she pats Henry's knee. "And speaking of time, don't you have a German lesson you're supposed to be getting ready for?"

Henry nods. "Ja, ich habe heute eine Lektion."

"You should get going, then," Regina tells him. "You don't want to be late."

He offers a half-hearted grin and nods before getting up and running off toward the stairs. Robin watches him go, drawing in a breath and slowly releasing it as he looks to Regina. She shrugs as he gets up and sits down in the spot that Henry once occupied, and as he slumps back, she chuckles softly.

"Well, that was unexpected."

Regina nods. "A bit."

"I mean, I get not being overjoyed, but he was downright sullen."

"It's a bit adjustment," Regina says. "Maybe he just needs some time to get used to it, to warm up to the idea. He's the baby now. Not being the baby will be an adjustment."

"Maybe Henry can help with that."

"Maybe," she murmurs, her grin fading a little. "Or maybe there's something else going on."

Robin's brow creases as he considers that. "Something else? What are you thinking?"

"I… don't know," she admits. "It's just the impression I got. His response seemed so unlike him. He's usually so easy-going, and he's wonderful whenever Winnie comes to visit."

"Should I go up and talk to him?"

"No, I will in a bit," she tells him, reaching for his hand. "I want to give him a little time to process it all. Maybe he just needs a little time to figure out how he feels."

"Like he did with that parmesan ice cream my father served the last time were were at Sherwood."

Regina laughs, likely remembering the quiet, pensive look that overcame Roland as he took little bites of the ice cream until the bowl was empty. "Hopefully this time the final verdict will be in our favor."

"Well, this time, he really doesn't have much of a choice in it," Robin says, as a slow grin curls onto his lips. "We're having a baby whether he likes it or not."

"We are," she says, biting down on her lip. "And now that the boys know, we should… start making arrangements. We don't have anything even close to a nursery or-"

"All in time," he says easily. As excited as he is, he wants to savor every moment of this pregnancy and doesn't want to rush a single thing. "Maybe tomorrow we can go into town and talk to the carpenter about a crib-"

Regina brightens a bit. "I also want to see about a pram."

"I can't wait to go," he tells her, grinning a bit coyly as his hand forms around hers, gripping tightly as gives it a little tug. Regina laughs out as he pulls her from the couch arm into his lap. She falls against him and his arms fold around her as he leans in, peppering her neck and jaw with kisses. "Maybe we can make a day of it," he tells her, his lips coasting up over her cheek. "Take the boys-"

"Maybe drum up some excitement in Roland."

Robin laughs. "He does love to shop."

"He does," Regina agrees, turning to look at him with a wide grin and smiling eyes-she looks so, genuinely happy, and it seems that nothing can dash that, and in turn, that makes him all the happier. "And until then, your excitement can be enough for you _and_ our sullen son."

Leaning in, he pecks her cheek and chuckles softly. "My excitement can be enough for me, Roland, and the _entire world."_ And, for now, she decides that his excitement is enough, certain the rest will fall into place when it's meant to.


	10. Enjoying New Habits

Her sixth month of pregnancy is winding down. The morning sickness of those first few months have faded and she no longer found herself in need of mid-day naps, no longer drained by the time the boys sat down for luncheon. Still, there were foods she avoided and others she craved, and she was glad that Mrs. Beakley was sensitive to that, tweaking the usual menu choices to accommodate her.

This pregnancy has been so different from her first. With Henry, she hadn't had the time or the luxury to say she wouldn't eat eggs or needed to lie down in the middle of the day, and when she found herself sick, she had to manage it alone. Even the moments that should have been happy ones were marred with worry. She constantly worried that her baby was moving too much or too little, every ache and pain she feared, every hiccup had her heart racing and bouts of heartburn and leg cramps had her near tears. That first time, she'd been wholly unprepared to the changes that overtook her body and couldn't gauge what was normal and what wasn't, and constantly, she was in a state of panic.

Daniel was always working-always trying to save up enough to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table-and she spent most of her time trying not to complain about her circumstances. She often looked back on her pregnancy has one of the hardest periods of her life and was thankful that, in the grand scheme of things, it was relatively short.

It hadn't occurred to her until this pregnancy came around that most of her feelings toward being pregnant could be more accurately aimed at her circumstances. This time around absolutely everything felt different, and she was very aware that a lot of that was thanks to her husband.

From the start of their of their marriage, he'd been patient, loving, and attentive to her needs, and her pregnancy had only increased those qualities.

Mornings had become their time together. The boys weren't awake yet and the house was quiet; truly, it'd always been an ideal time for them to enjoy one another without interruption. But for the past few weeks, the need for that enjoyment came more frequently, and Robin was ready and willing to accomodate.

That particular morning, she wakes up with that familiar tingle between her legs. She'd been having a dream. She doesn't remember the details, but she remembers the feelings-and given how wet she was, she'd certainly been enjoying whatever she'd been doing. Before her eyes even open, her fingers are tugging her nightdress up over her hips. She kicks the blanket down around her feet and with a bit of maneuvering, her fingers find her clit-and at the first contact, she lets out a satisfied little sigh.

She begins to rub herself with two fingers-lazy at first, and then a bit rougher-and while it feels nice, it's not what she wants.

A grin pulls onto her lips as she wriggles closer to Robin, reaching under the blanket and skimming her hand over his thigh. She keeps an eye on him, grinding as her hand slides to his hip and ventures inward until her fingers are wrapped around his cock.

Peeling back the covers, she slowly begins to pump her hand up and down his shaft, giggling softly to herself every time he stirs but doesn't wake. Her hand continues to slip slowly up and down his cock, twisting gently as it reaches the bottom and works its way back up, as she leans in and places a few fluttery kisses along his jaw.

This works a bit better, and before his eyes open, a smile is spreading across his lips.

"Good morning," he murmurs. "I could get used to these little wake up calls."

"Mm, I'm enjoying them, too."

He shifts himself a bit, turning his hips and head toward her, as he leans in and presses a kiss to her lips. His tongue parts her lips and she smiles as his tongue slips over hers. She kisses him back and presses herself closer, her hand still working his cock. His hand slips under her nightdress, lingering momentarily over her bump before finding her breast. He kneads the soft skin as his kiss becomes harder and hungrier, and he tries to pull her closer.

Regina sits up, breaking the kiss to lift off her nightdress.

Robin grins, sitting up on his elbows as his eyes immediately fall to her breasts. They're fuller than they usually are, and though he hasn't said it, she's well aware that he enjoys the particular change. Reaching out, he traces her nipple, licking his lips as he teases her-and she knows that if he had his way, he'd waste away the morning squeezing and sucking on them as her hand worked his cock.

And while that sounded like a perfectly wonderful way to start the morning, she was already far too frustrated for that. She _needed_ a release. She wanted him inside of her. She wanted him to fuck her.

At the start of her pregnancy, he was so cautious, almost as if afraid to touch her. It was a common misconception that sex during pregnancy could hurt the baby or increase the risk of miscarriage, and while Dr. Hopper had been reluctant to dismiss that, Mrs. Beakley all but said it one morning over breakfast insisting that it was no worse than Regina running up the stairs after the cat stole one of the boys' socks-and as embarrassing as that had been, she was glad for it because after that, Robin began to test the waters. Slowly, but surely, he got more comfortable and though he was still a bit unsure, as long as she took the lead, he'd happily follow, allowing her to decide what was too much and what was too little.

And often, it was too little.

"This is nice, but-"

"I know, I know," he says, nodding knowingly and laughing as he pulls off his own nightshirt. "Come here."

Prior to this point in her pregnancy, she'd been all about the lead up-the game that led them to sex. She'd enjoyed teasing touches and lingering kisses. She enjoyed working him up only to pull him back from the brink of climax, making those moments of intimacy last as long as possible. But lately, she found that difficult, preferring to cut right to the chase and Robin was quick to oblige her.

He takes her hand as she gets up on her knees, shifting herself over his torso. She grins and watches as he adjusts his erection to make it easier for her to slide down onto him-and when she does, he offers a satisfied little grunt.

"I love the way you feel," he murmurs as she sinks down, taking him fully. "So warm."

Biting down on her lip, she gives them both a moment to adjust, wriggling around until she's found a position that she's comfortable in. It's harder now than it used to be, but not impossible, and he doesn't seem to mind her shifting-instead, it seems quite the contrary.

Though she's more concerned about positioning herself, from the corner of her eye she can see the way he's looking at her-with that silly little grin he sometimes wears as if he's suddenly reminded of how lucky they are-and it makes her cheeks flush. She's amazed that he finds her attractive this way-amazed, but glad for it.

His hand touches to her hip and she draws in a breath, looking to him as she leans back a little. His fingers knead momentarily at her hip before he lets out a little sigh and bites down on his lip, letting his hand slide to her swollen abdomen. His touch is light and feathery, as his fingers glide tenderly over her bump-and for that moment, she doesn't move, letting him caress her skin.

And then, she grows impatient.

Slowly, she begins to rock her hips-back and forth, again and again-raising herself up a little more with each movement and enjoying the way his cock feels as it slides back into her.

It's nice, but it's not enough and she grins as Robin's knees rise up instinctively, giving her something to lean back against. His hips begin to move, thrusting and meeting her movements, pushing him deeper-but still it's not enough, not hitting where she wants it.

"Deeper," she says, her voice breathy and almost begging as she reaches up and cups her breast, her fingers rolling her sensitive nipples. "Please."

Through hooded eyes, she sees him smirk-and her chest flutters.

She knows that smirk.

He pulls himself up into a sitting position, keeping himself inside of her as he pulls her up. His arms loop underneath her legs as he pulls her up, his hands cupping her ass as he begins to thrust his hips. She's moving too, and though it takes a minute for them to find a rhythm, once they do, it's so good.

So, damn good.

Her fingers press into his shoulders as she rides him. She can feel her nipples rubbing against his chest, making them harder and more sensitive-and the more sensitive they get, they wetter she seems to get.

Her lips graze his and he smiles, his eyes meeting hers as her tongue traces the seam of his lips. He laughs softly and his teeth catch her bottom lip, biting gently as her hands slip up over the back of his head. She leans in the rest of the way, kissing him hungrily as her hips move faster.

But still, as good as it is, it's not good enough.

She breaks the kiss and lets out a little whimper-and a smirk edges over his lips. He wiggles his eyebrows and she can't help but laugh as his hands slide from her ass to the small of her back.

"Ready?" he asks, drawing in a breath as their eyes meet.

She nods as he shifts his weight, shifting her down onto her back. He slips out of her and her legs fall open as her heart beats a little faster. He grins slyly as he leans in, hooking his arms underneath her knees and pushing her back so that her feet are at his elbows.

She lets out sound-something between a laugh and a moan-as he sinks fully into her, thrusting in and out of her and finally hitting on that spot he couldn't quite reach before. He fucks her until she's squirming beneath him and as her orgasm overtakes her, her inner muscles clenching at his cock, she feels him coming, too.

He stays inside of her for a few minutes after it's over, still holding her legs as they try to catch their breath-and then, once he's recovered enough, he lets go of her and slips out, settling himself at her side. She rolls onto her side and slides her hand up over his stubbly cheek, drawing him in and kissing him deeply before cuddling into his chest. His arm folds around her and he strokes his hand over her hip and thigh.

"Honestly," he laughs. "If every morning could start this way-"

"Hasn't it?" she asks, giggling softly and a bit groggily as she looks up at him.

"Well, almost." She grins as his fingers twist over her hip to work their way back down. "I need a nap now."

"That sounds nice, too," she admits.

Robin turns his head, craning his neck to look at the clock on the mantle. "The boys won't be up for another hour-"

"And even then, they won't be down for breakfast for half an hour after that."

His face brightens adorably. "So, we have nearly two hours to… sleep."

She grins, her teeth catching her bottom lip. "Or something."

Robin's brow arches. "Or something-"

Shrugging her shoulder, she reaches for the twisted blanket on the opposite side of her and tugs it up over them. "Or something," she giggles as she rolls closer and kisses him. His foot rubs at her ankle and his hand slips between them, finding the wet spot between her legs-and as her hips shift to accommodate his fingers, she grins wondering if their presence at breakfast is really needed.


	11. The Dragons Will Protect You

Written for OQ Prompt Party 2019.

This one is a bit different. Instead of a flashforward, it's a flashback.

* * *

Regina stands in her bedchamber, her hands shaking as she stares blankly at the closed door. She can still feel the warmth of her new husband's lip on her cheek, she can still feel the rough scratchiness of his beard on her skin-and she can she still hear the soft kindness in his voice as he told her he sincerely hoped she'd be happy in her new life.

She's not sure what to make of it and she's even less sure that she trusts it.

The last few weeks had been a whirlwind of questions-questions she still didn't have answers to-and she wasn't quite sure what to make of her husband's apparent kindness. After all, he'd essentially bought her hand and she was sure there was something he'd want in return. She hadn't been at all surprised when she'd been taken up to the bedchamber by maids she didn't know and stripped from her dress. They'd put in her a negligee presumably for her husband's enjoyment-and yet, he'd barely looked at her. He didn't touch her save that one, soft kiss to the cheek. And then he left, leaving her to… be.

Drawing in a shaky breath, she turns away from the door, looking to the fire burning at the hearth as she wonders if her things have arrived. Biting down on her lip, she moves to the dressing room, grabbing one of the candles as she goes. She frowns at the realization that no one has bothered to unpack for her-and given the maid's disdain as they prepared her, she doubts anyone will.

She sinks down to the floor and carefully sets the candle down, looking at the trunks until she finds the one she thinks her nightdresses were placed into. It takes her a few minutes to open it, and when she does, she grins, glad for the familiar cotton nightdress that's on top. She shrugs off the robe and puts it on, hugging the fabric to herself-and it's then that tears rush to her eyes.

She doesn't want any of this.

She doesn't want to be here.

She wants to go home… wherever that is.

Dragon Head hadn't felt the way it did before she left. She couldn't keep a maid and they couldn't seem to secure a nanny-not that she needed one, she was glad to care for Henry herself-and she made a habit of keeping her eyes down. She didn't talk unless spoken to, and even her father seemed distant. Her mother barely looked at her.

Wiping away her tears, she gets up and takes the candle back into the bedchamber, thinking of her son-her six year old son who'd never spent a night away from her. She doesn't know where he is, only that he's somewhere in this house-and she worries that he's too scared to sleep.

It doesn't take her long to make her way into the hallway, wandering down the long corridor and peeking into bedrooms until she finds the nursery-and that's where she finds Henry, sitting up in bed and hugging his knees to his chest.

"Hey you," she murmurs, peeking in.

Henry's smile explodes across his face as he jumps up, and her heart breaks as her arms form around him. He hugs her tightly, his little fingers clutching at her nightdress.

"Mama," he whimpers. "I missed you."

"I know, sweetheart, I missed you, too," she says, lifting him into her arms.

For awhile, she just holds him, hugging him as tight as she can. He cups her hand over the back of her head and stroking his hair as she sways back and forth-and it's then that she notices the little boy in the bed across the room.

"You have a roommate," she tells him, grinning at the realization that Robin has arranged for their sons to share a bedroom-an indication that Henry will be treated well.

"Yeah," Henry says, blinking as he looks to her. "I do."

"Is he nice?"

Henry shrugs. "He was sleeping when I got here."

"Oh-"

"I missed our storytime."

Her heart aches and she nods. Since he was a toddler, they've had a bedtime routine and with a few exceptions-tonight being one-she never missed it. She made a point not to. It was one of the few constants she had in her life. No matter how terrible things were-and for a time, they'd been truly terrible-if she could end the day with her son in her lap, telling him stories about mythical lands and outlandish adventures, there would always be a silver lining and there would always be a reason to get through the next day.

"I know," she tells him, "I'm sad about that, too."

"Did you bring the book we've been reading? The one that Grandpapa gave me?'

"I don't know," she admits, biting down on her lip, doubting that the nanny in the room next door had time to unpack Henry's things. "Maybe tomorrow we can find it."

Henry frowns, but nods-and then, he burrows his face in her shoulder. "I don't want to stay here."

"Oh, sweetheart," she breathes out, hugging him a little tighter as tears fill her eyes.

"I want to go back to Dragon Head." He looks up at her with teary eyes. "Can we go home?"

Drawing in a shaky breath, her eyes sink closed. "This… is home now, I think." Henry's face falls, so she musters all the strength she has in her to smile. "Come on," she says, bouncing him on her hip. "I have an idea."

"To leave?"

"No," she murmurs, her stomach lurching and her chest aching. "I want to show you something."

Henry nods as he reaches out to play with the ribbon at the front of her nightdress. "What?"

"Well, that's just it," she says, grinning through her own tears. "You have to wait and see."

Henry brightens a little. "A surprise?"

"Kind of," she tells him, bouncing him again. "Come on."

She sets him down and takes his hand, leading him down the long corridor to her bedchamber. All the way there, he looks up at her curiously-and all the way there, she smiles, though all she wants to do is cry.

She breathes out a sigh of relief as she closes the door, shutting them away in her new bedchamber-a room that was hastily cobbled together, but is nonetheless warm and inviting. The maids who'd prepared her for Robin brought with them a box of jewelry. She didn't know who the jewels belonged to and she didn't think to ask and after selecting a long string of heavy pearls that would hang down between her practically bare breasts, they'd left the box on the dressing table.

"I found a dragon's hoard," she whispers as she helps Henry up onto the stool in front of the dressing table. "Have a look." Through the mirror, she watches as her son's face brightens and he gingerly opens the box, looking down in amazement and the collection of sparkling jewels. There are pairs of earrings, bracelets, hair combs and necklaces-some tarnished from lack of use, others missing gems from their sets, but all looking magical in the light of the candle. Henry's fingers run over them as she sits down beside him, lifting him into her lap as she makes up a story on the spot.

She tells him that she heard the maids talking and somewhere in the woods just beyond the estate, a dragon lives. He comes out a night, hiding his precious things and keeping them safe from bad people and spirits, protecting them as they sleep.

"So, he's watching us now? He's watching the house?" Henry asks, looking back at her.

"Yes, just like the stone dragons at Dragon Head did."

"Wow," he murmurs, reaching for a diamond and ruby ring that's missing a couple of stones. "Do you think he'll be mad that we're going through his things?"

"No," she says easily, hoping that's truly the case and no one will be upset that she's touching the things inside of the box. "I think he left this box in plain sight, just for you."

Henry blinks, looking up at her through the mirror. "Why?"

"To let you know that you're safe here."

Henry grins and leans back into her, still examining the ring-and as she looks down at it, noting all of its imperfections, she thinks there's probably an obvious moral to her story, but she leaves it alone, not wanting to point out to her son what misfits they are at Sherwood.

Leaning in, she presses a kiss to the top of his head and cuddles him. "Are you as tired as I am?" she asks.

Henry giggles-and it makes her heart soar. "No."

"Well, I am exhausted," she tells him. "Do you think we could get into bed?"

"Will you tell me more about the dragon?"

"Of course," she says, yawning as she lifts her son. "What do you want to know?"

"Does he have a name?"

She nods. "Igor," she says, her brow furrowing as she laughs softly to herself, wondering where that name came from. But Henry doesn't question it, instead, he fires off another question and another after that. They climb into bed and pull the covers up around themselves-and as she pulls Henry close, holding him as tight as she can, she continues to spin a story, finding comfort in the warmth of her son and the normalcy of their favorite bedtime ritual.


	12. Doing It All Again

Regina frowns as she looks at herself in the mirror, turning from side to side as she pulls the fabric of her robe against her body. She's reached that awkward stage of pregnancy where none of her clothes quite fit the way that they should, and it makes her miss the high, empire waistlines of years past.

Still, she couldn't believe that any of this was happening. She was happy, of course, but it seemed a bit surreal. Her oldest child was a father himself to a beautiful brown-eyed girl called Lucy and the baby of the family was sixteen and set to be presented at court later that coming spring-and at the thought of that, she grimaces, letting go of the fabric of her robe as she turns away from the mirror. She hadn't considered that yet-by April, she'll be heavily pregnant. She's never much cared about the traditions that governed their social set; however, Charlotte was her only daughter and she was excited about the prospect of presenting her-and more important than her own feelings about the matter, Charlotte was excited.

Sighing, she sits down at her dressing table and pulls out a pair of cream colored gloves and chooses a pearl-studded comb for her hair-a piece that will match almost anything.

Her eyes shift up as the bedroom door opens and she turns, expecting to see Belle; but instead, Robin enters.

"You look disappointed," he says, chuckling softly as he flops back on the bed, fully dressed and ready for dinner. "And… you're still in your robe," he murmurs, turning his head on the bed to look at her. "I thought you'd be dressed by now."

Frowning, she rolls her eyes. "Belle had to let out the waist of my dress."

"Ah-"

"That's four now."

"She should just… do them all one day."

Sighing, Regina nods. She hates that idea. "Maybe."

"Or Ruby could make you a few things-"

"That'll need to be let out in a month or so?"

He grins, trying to be empathetic. "Or she could make new things-"

"Again?"

"Why not?"

Regina shrugs and turns back to her dressing table. "It just seems like a waste."

"It's not a waste. You need things to wear."

Taking a breath, she nods. That's a fair point-and it would save her the disappointment that came each time something that had fit so perfectly before was now too snug to even fasten. "Maybe," she sighs as a grin pulls onto her lips. "Or I could just go down to dinner in my robe."

Robin chuckles softly. "Well, I can't say that I'd be opposed to that, but I think the kids might have a thing or two to say about it."

She laughs, thinking of Charlotte's reaction in particular. "Well, it's the first time in a long time we'll have them all under one roof and I think one shock is enough for one night," she says, rising from the bench in front of the dressing table. "Will you help me get dressed since Belle's working a small miracle with my dress? Henry's train is due in an hour and I don't want to push dinner back any longer."

Robin nods, rolling off the bed, and together, they walk into the dressing room. He stands behind her as she fishes out her petticoats and a fresh chemise, and then she pulls out the box where her new corset lies in wait.

"Speaking of a waste," she murmurs, lifting it from the box. "Belle bought this home for me today."

Robin's brow furrows. "What… is that? I don't remember you having to wear anything like that before."

"It's a maternity corset," she tells him, frowning as she looks at the garment in her hands. "It appears my mother's been reincarnated into an article of clothing."

He offers a wry laugh as he takes it to examine-and then, after a couple of minutes, he looks up at her, perplexed. "How… are your supposed to…" His voice trails off and he flips it upside down. "What is it supposed to…" A little chuckle escapes her as he flips it right side up. "Is this safe? It looks like some sort of medieval torture device."

"Well, if I don't fit into my dress after Belle's let out the waist, this will ensure that I do fit into it."

Robin's eyes widen. "At that point, I'd prefer you just to wear your robe. The kids will survive the scandal."

By the time Belle returns she's changed her chemise, put on three petticoats to give her skirt a bit of shape, put on the cream gloves. Belle laughs at the sight of her as she takes Robin's place in the dressing room, and from the corner of her eye, she watches him flop back on the bed-and it's only then that she realizes he's taken the corset with him, still trying to figure it out.

To her relief, the navy blue and lace dress now fits-without the corset beneath it-and once she's in the dress, it doesn't take much longer to get ready.

She and Robin make their way downstairs just as Henry is arriving.

Roland, Oliver and Charlotte rush to greet him, and after giving his siblings a round of hugs, he moves to hug his mother. She pulls him close, hugging him as tightly as possible-and though this time it goes unsaid, she hates that he lives so far away.

They make their way into the dining room, and for a while, she's content to sit back and listen to her children catch up with each other, picking right where they left off the last time they were all together. She's missed the playful banter and teasing, she missed the way they'd randomly team up against one another and how they'd laugh until their stomachs hurt over the most petulant things.

Since Henry moved out the year before, the house has seemed emptier-and no one felt that loss more than Roland.

"You should've brought Ella and Lucy," Roland complains. "Then you'd have been able to say a while longer."

Henry sighs and cracks a smug grin. "Or you could finally move down to Sherwood and be closer." Roland's arms fold. The fact that he's twenty-five and unmarried is beginning to grate on his nerves-though his bachelorhood didn't bother him in the last until Henry and Ella left. "It might make you a bit more enticing to the ladies, you know, having a place of your own."

Roland's eyes roll. "The house would be awfully lonely." His face scrunches. "Besides, I'm positive grandfather's haunting the place. He wouldn't let it go that easily."

"Then come to Dragon Head. Stay for awhile. Ella wouldn't mind, and I could use the help. I don't think I ever realized just how much work an estate like that is."

"I told you," Robin says, smirking as he cocks his brow.

Henry grins. "Still, I underestimated the weight of those obligations."

For a moment, Roland considers it. "The only thing worse than being haunted by my own grandfather is by being haunted by your grandmother."

Henry's eyes roll. "Neither house is haunted. That's an excuse."

Roland's arms fold. "I won't live at Sherwood alone-"

"You wouldn't have to. Dragon Head has more than enough space."

Charlotte's eyes roll as she looks to Oliver. "It's like we don't exist."

Oliver nods, looking between his older brothers. "Hasn't it always been this way, though?"

Roland looks sharply at him. "You act like I didn't spend an entire week with you hunting pheasants."

"Well, I didn't get to go," Charlotte frowns. "I never do."

"Because you're a child," Oliver says, grinning smugly as her jaw drops. "Children don't get to-"

"I'm less than a year younger than you. If I'm a child, so are you."

"It's different for boys," Oliver says, knowing the comment will get under his sister's skin. "The rules are different. It's a fact of life."

Charlotte's face reddens as she launches into a speech they've all heard before-singing the virtues of Princess Victoria, Heiress to the Throne, and the bluestockings whose pamphlets she collects and religiously reads, and then, just as she's getting her point across, her arms fold and her eyes narrow as she petulantly reminds Oliver that she's always been the smarter of the two and he's just jealous.

And from there, she and Oliver begin to bicker.

Robin groans. "I think now's a good time to tell them," he mutters, looking over at her.

"And ruin such a happy dinner?"

He smirks. "It'll shut them up."

"Or turn _that_ onto us."

"Remember how cute they used to be?"

Regina sighs, nodding. "Do you think we could ship all four back to Dragon Head?"

He grins. "It seems like Henry needs their help. We'd be doing everyone a favor."

Regina laughs-and then suddenly, all four children are looking at them.

"You two seem awfully giggly," Henry says, grinning at them. "Usually when we get this way, it has the opposite effect."

"We've finally worn them down," Roland says, laughing softly to himself. "It only took a couple of decades."

"Or they're plotting something," Henry says, looking between his siblings.

Charlotte's eyes widen as she looks between her brothers. "The last time they did that, Oliver and I ended up shadowing the maids and learning to polish the floor."

Robin beams at the memory. "It builds character."

Oliver sighs. "I'd rather clean the fireplaces every day than listen to Charlotte whine about it-"

"I burned myself," Charlotte interjects, looking across the table at her brother. "It hurt."

"You're the idiot who touched a-"

"Alright, alright," Robin calls out, raising his voice over them. "We actually do have something to tell you."

Regina frowns as she looks to him. "I was excited… and then I remember _this_ is what they grow into."

That catches all four children's attention.

"What… do you mean?" Oliver asks, looking to Charlotte as if silently asking if she heard their mother's comment, too-and then, as he looks between his siblings, his face falls. They all heard it.

"Well, we weren't quite sure how to tell you," Regina begins. "It's… all quite unexpected."

Charlotte looks away, looking down at her plate. "Oh god…"

"I'm pregnant," Regina says. "I'm due in the early summer."

"That's…" Henry blinks, looking to Roland who is sitting back with his arms folded as if they've all started speaking in Latin or some other language he doesn't understand. "That's… um… great," he says, shifting his eyes to Oliver and Charlotte. "Isn't it?"

Oliver clears his throat. "Um, sure-"

"Summer," Charlotte says, her eyes widening. "Mom, no. No, that's right before-"

"I know," Regina sighs, frowning as she thinks of her daughter's coming out party, an event that's been in the words for months already. "I mean, it'd be a little odd, but I could still present you or you could wait another-"

"Oh my god, this is going to be so embarrassing." Her eyes press closed. "How is this even possible?"

"Well, Charlotte," Oliver begins, clearing his throat. "If you're so smart, you should be able to figure out-"

"Wait, if you're due in early summer," Henry begins, cutting in and looking to her. "That means…" His eyes press closed and her eyes slide to Robin. They were both hoping that Henry wouldn't connect those dots, that he wouldn't realize his newest sibling was very likely conceived when she and Robin traveled to Dragon Head for Lucy's christening. "I… don't think I can ever walk into that room again," he mutters, looking to Roland.

"It… might not have been there," Robin tells him. It's supposed to make Henry feel better, but it does the opposite. "On the way home there was a rain storm and-"

"Please stop," Oliver says. "I… don't think any of us want to know the details."

"I'm just clarifying-"

"How is this possible?" Charlotte asks again, this time looking directly to her. "You're… a grandmother."

Regina nods, sighing as she shakes her head. "Well, I was a young mother and-"

"Now you're going to be an old one," Charlotte spats.

Sighing, Regina looks to Robin-and he laughs softly. They'd expected this, and truly, the things their children were saying were all things they'd themselves thought as they worked through the feelings about it.

"Well, I think it's great," Roland says, finally, looking to his parents. "Really. I'm happy for both of you."

Robin's eyes narrow. "Is this what's going to push you to move out?"

"No," Roland laughs. "But the next time I'm in town, I am going to pick up a whole box of ear plugs. If Oliver and Charlotte are any indication, this kid is going to spend the first year of its life screaming like a banshee."

Oliver smirks. "Charlotte stills does."

Charlotte's eyes narrow, but she says nothing.

"So, um… that's that," Regina says. "You'll all have a new sibling in the summer."

For a moment, no one says anything. Then, it's Henry who breaks the silence. "And… everything's okay?" he asks. "You've seen Doctor Hopper? The baby's healthy?"

Regina nods. "Both Doctor Hopper and Mrs. Beakley have given me and the baby a clean bill of health."

"That's good," Henry says.

"It is," both Roland and Oliver echo.

"Um, while I'm here, can I… help with anything?"

Regina looks to Robin, who shrugs and then she shakes her head before looking back to their oldest son who is clearly uncomfortable, but doing his best to set an example for his younger siblings. "No, I think… I think we're all set. All of Oliver and Charlotte's baby things are packed away upstairs. We just have to set up a nursery, and the footmen and maids will do most of that." She grins. "I'm just glad to have you here for a little while."

Henry nods. "I'm glad to be here. And, of course, if you think of anything-"

"You'll be the first to know."

Beneath the table, Robin reaches for her hand, giving it a tight little squeeze-and then, as she looks over at him, she sees him grinning at her in that sweet way that always makes her knees a little weak.

They've been down this road more than once before; and they're both confident that it'll all work out. As unconventional as it is, she knows once the shock wears off, the kids will come around. It'll be hard not to get swept up in the excitement, and once the baby's arrived, he or she will be almost impossible to resist.

"So," Robin begins, clearing his throat. "How was the ride up?"

Henry nods, looking to Robin. "Smooth. Comfortable seats, not too much jostling. Everything was on time."

"We made some improvement to the cars."

"It's noticeable," Henry tells him. "So much so that I regret not bringing Ella and Lucy."

"Next time-"

"Absolutely," Henry says. "I like the new route, too."

"Cutting through the countryside and going off those old paths wasn't ideal, but it cut down on travel time, for sure."

"And I'm sure the farmers of that land enjoyed the cheque," Henry quips. "I don't know many who'd have turned down that sum of money."

Regina settles back in her chair as Robin laughs and nods-and both Oliver and Charlotte groan.

"It'd be nice if we could go a day without having to talk about trains," Charlotte says, looking pointedly at Oliver, who nods his agreement.

And then Roland laughs, looking to them as he bites into a dinner roll. "Better than talking about our parents' sex lives, though, isn't it?"

Both she and Robin laugh as Oliver and Charlotte go red-faced, their eyes suddenly wide as they focus down on their dinner plates-and beneath the table, Robin again gives her hand a little squeeze, winking at her before he and Henry resume their relatively boring conversation about laying train tracks and relocating farmers.

Their position is certainly an unconventional one, but in many ways that's fitting for them. They'd never been conventional, and though it's taken her years to embrace that, she finally has. She's no longer willing to make apologies for her choices and fully believes that everything works out the way it's supposed to-after all, it always has.


	13. Starting a New Chapter

Regina smiles as a light glimmers in the mirror of her dressing table, her heart beating just a little bit faster as she rises to move to the window. She stands there for a few minutes, watching anxiously as the flickering light draws nearer, momentarily disappearing as the gravel road that leads up to the house twists and turns, only to reemerge just a bit brighter when it rounds the bend.

He's early, she thinks to herself as her smile deepens, her heart again fluttering.

It's silly to say, but she doesn't sleep well when he's not beside her. By this point, she should be used to it; after all, every now and then, he has to travel for various business purposes. She's always invited, and sometimes, she takes him up on the offer. But she's not interested in dealing with their parents' estates, and often traveling with him it's more work than it's worth.

Still, watching him go is always hard and that first night apart is nearly impossible; then after that point, she settles in a bit, occupying herself so that her anxiety doesn't get the best of her. The boys have their routines of school work and chores, she has a household to manage—sort of, she's not sure she'd call what she does at the house _managing_ it—and she has social obligations attached to her title that are always in need of a little extra attention. The days get easier as they pass; but the nights never get better.

Though, she still tries… to no avail.

Tonight, for example, after the boys were tucked into their beds and the house was quiet, she'd called for Belle and asked for a bath to be drawn. She felt a little guilty about such a laborious request so late in the evening; but Belle hadn't said anything about it and she truly was in need of one—sometimes, washing up just didn't do. Besides that, baths relaxed her. They always had—and though they were a luxury in which she didn't usually indulge—her nerves practically required it.

Belle filled the tub with warm water and lavender, and she'd soaked in it—enjoying it—for longer than she should have. When she pulled herself out of the tub, her skin was wrinkly and her hair was soaked. Belle offered to dry it, but it was well after midnight, so she'd declined and sent the maid off to bed. She'd pulled on a thick winter robe and sat down at her dressing table, working her comb through her tangled wet hair. She wound it up into a loose bun before rubbing herself down in a new lavender moisturizer she'd purchased earlier in the week.

She did whatever she could to distract herself from the fact that, once more, she'd be sleeping alone…

The carriage pulls to the front of the house and out of sight. She heards John's voice call out something and then the carriage appears, pulling toward the stables—and then, she hears the heavy door creak open and push closed. She turns away from the window and waits, biting down on her lip as she tries to contain her excitement—and then finally, the bedchamber's door opens.

"You're still up—"

"I was just turning in when I saw the light from the carriage," she tells him. "And I figured, what's a few more minutes?"

He grins. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, considering I didn't expect you until at least tomorrow, I think it's safe to say that you've succeeded."

He laughs softly and pulls off his coat, tossing it over the armchair as he loosens his ascot. "I had another idea, but," he moves toward her reaching out and grabbing the knot of her robe and tugging her to him, "this is nice, too."

Her hands link around his neck and she nods. "I missed you."

"And I, you," he murmurs as he leans in, his arms looping around her waist.

She pushes herself closer, her hand shifting to the back of his neck and rubbing at his hairline as she relishes in being so near him again—his scent, his touch, his everything—and she realizes that two weeks is far too long to be apart.

He's breathless when he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. "God, I missed this."

"Mm, me too."

"My bed felt so empty without you."

"I know, I felt the same."

"I nearly had John bunk with me

Her brow arches and she bites down on her lip to suppress a giggle as she thinks of Robin asking John to cuddle. "Nearly?"

"Ultimately, it just wouldn't have worked."

"Oh no?"

He shakes his head, looking somewhat serious and somewhat playful. "No, he doesn't fit perfectly against me as you do and he doesn't smell of—" He leans in and draws in a breath. "What is that?"

"Lavender."

"It's nice."

"It's new," she tells him. "I took the boys into town the other day and picked it up at the apothecary shop."

"I like it," he says, grinning a bit coyly as he leans in, peppering a few kisses over her neck and jaw. "A lot."

She giggles at the feathery feel of his lips on her skin. "It's supposed to help me sleep."

"Does it work?"

"I don't know," she admits. "This is the first time I've used it."

"Something tells me it's not going to work," he says, taking a few steps back and taking her hands in his. "Not tonight anyway."

"Oh no? And why's that?" she asks, letting him pull her along.

She laughs as he sits down and pulls her down to his lap. His arms form around her waist and his hand clasps over her hip, kneading gently as he looks to her. "Tell me everything," he says. "What did I miss?"

"Admittedly, not much," she confesses. "We just sort of… kept going in your absence." A grin edges onto her lips. "Though there was a day I was certain all the maids were going to quit. That… would've been something."

His eyes widen. "What happened?"

"Toulouse got into the flour… and so the flour was all over the carpets."

"That's… not awful," Robin murmurs, still kneading at her hip. "That doesn't seem like—"

"Well, then Roland thought everyone would be mad at the cat, so he decided to try and clean it up himself—"

"Uh oh."

She nods, grimacing at the memory of the maids shrieking when they found him. "He grabbed what he thought was the carpet balm."But it was actually the sealer for your boots."

Robin's eyes widen. "Oh, what a mess!"

"Roland cried and Mrs. Potter gave in to him. The maids weren't allowed to complain in front of her," she sighs. "It's all cleaned up now, but for awhile, it was…"

"A mess."

"Yes."

Robin laughs and shakes his head. "Did he help clean it up?"

"That was the original idea, but Mrs. Potter thought he'd just be in the way, and really, he was in no state. Every time he saw one of the maids scowling, he started to tear up." Her eyes roll. "That's how we ended up in town. Roland wanted to do something to make it up to them, so each of the maids got a jar of rose scented cream." She grins. "According to the lady at the shop, it'll make their cheeks kissably soft, irresistible, even."

"Well, that sounds nice—"

"Mm, they seemed happy with it."

"So, all is good now? I don't have to offer up extra days off or a bump in pay or—?"

"All is good," Regina confirms, shaking her head as a soft grin pulls onto her lips. "It's the same cream I'm wearing now, just in a different scent."

"Ahh, then let me test it." She giggles as he presses a kiss to each of her cheeks. "It works! Your cheeks are, in fact, incredibly kissable!" He leans in again, letting his lips flutter against her skin. "An excellent purchase," he murmurs as her head tips back and lips slide along her jaw. "Just brilliant."

She laughs as his lips touch to a particularly ticklish spot just beneath her earlobe. "As nice as this is—"

"You don't expect me to stop," he says, not pulling himself away from her. "Not with this cream that's made you even more irresistible—"

"I want to know how your trip was."

"Terrible."

"Oh?"

"My father was there."

"Well, I assumed that. You were at his house, after all."

Robin sighs, his breath warm against her. "I stayed in our old bedroom. All I could think of is that you weren't there with me."

"Is that when you nearly invited John to bed?"

He laughs as his lips pull away and he looks at her pointedly. "Are you tired?"

"I was."

A grin tugs onto his lips. "Not anymore?"

"No, I've found a second wind… for some reason."

A soft laugh bubbles out of her as she leans in, kissing him again. She shifts herself on his lap so that her knees are on either side of his legs. His arms fold around her and she can feel him smile against her mouth as she leans into it a bit more. Her fingers slide through his hair as her kiss grows hungrier, needier—and he matches her intensity at every move.

She's practically up on her knees and hovering over him, her fingers clasped at the back of his head while she holds him to her as she feels his hand slide up between them, tugging at the knot at the front of her robe. She smiles against his mouth as she feels it loosen, and momentarily, she breaks the kiss, looking down at him. A sly little grin works over his lips as he looks to her, his breath growing shaky as she shrugs the robe off of her shoulders, letting it collect at her elbows as it leaves her nearly bare.

"You know," she begins, "just before you left we… had a talk."

"I remember it," he says, his eyes shifting slowly up to meet hers as his hands settle inside of the robe on her hips. "So, you… want to try?"

"Well, I've stopped drinking the tea, and… it should be out of my system by now, and really, there's only one way to know for sure." He nods enthusiastically, grinning like an idiot—an absolutely adorable one. "Is it strange that I'm nervous?"

"Are you?"

She nods, feeling a bit sheepish. "I've… never done this with the _intent_ of getting pregnant."

"Well, we've only done this the one time with nothing between us—"

"What if it… doesn't work?"

His smile softens. "Is that something you're worried about?"

"No, not particularly. It's just… something I've been thinking about lately." Her eyes roll. "I found this pamphlet at the apothecary and—" Her voice halts. She's getting ahead of herself and overthinking something that's completely natural, something she has no reason to think she can no longer do. "It's strange, really, to suddenly want something so desperately that I spent years thinking I didn't want. And now, I worry that it's… it's not possible or—"

"Is that what's been keeping you up?"

She grins as the back of her hand strokes his cheek. "No, your absence is what kept me up. That's just what I thought about while I already wasn't sleeping. You know, those evasive thoughts that arrive around midnight and refuse to leave until the sun's coming up. "

"I know those sorts of thoughts well," he says with an empathetic little grin. "The likelihood of it working as it should on the first try is… slim. It's all about timing, though… I admit, I don't know exactly what that means." He chuckles softly as his hand rubs gently over her hip. "Let's not overthink it, hm? Just enjoy this for what it is and see what happens down the road."

Drawing in a breath, she nods and leans back in, not wanting to kill the mood with unnecessary worry—and really, he's right. There's no reason to worry about anything right now. Licking her lips she leans back in, pecking his lips as her hands fall to his chest, her fingers sliding down the soft fabric of his shirt. She bites down on her lip and looks back to him as she gives the shirt a little tug, then in one quick and fluid motion, Robin pulls it off and drops it to the floor.

She grins at him, her fingers skimming down his now bare chest as her head tilts as she leans in to kiss him again. His hands fall to her ass, cupping and squeezing as she grinds against him.

Her breath catches as his hand slides between her legs, his fingers swiping through the wet spot between her legs until one slips inside of her, soon followed by a second. She feels him smile against her mouth, enjoying the obvious effect he's having on her.

Moaning softly, she pulls back and grins, pushing his shoulders back against the chair. She watches him—she loves watching him in moments like this one—as she starts to rock her hips a bit more intentionally, fucking herself with his fingers.

He groans as she eases herself back a little on his lap, pulling herself off of his hand. Her legs tighten around his as she reaches for the front of his pants—for a long time now, she's been able to feel how hard he is, how he's strained against the fabric of his pants, just waiting for a release. She grins as his eyes cast down, watching as her fingers work over the buttons, her hand pushing inside, her palm rubbing over his hard cock as her fingers form around it, pulling it out.

He shifts himself a bit awkwardly, lifting his hips and tugging his pants down over him.

It takes a bit of awkward maneuvering, but finally, he works them down his thighs and Regina does the rest, lifting herself off of him and pulling them down his thighs. Then, as she lowers herself back to his lap, he kicks them away. His hands slide underneath her ass, lifting her as he pulls her closer, her stomach flutters as she looks down at his hard cock between them.

It didn't take much to get him excited—but then, after a time apart, it never really does.

Licking her lips, she leans in, brushing them over his and pulling back teasingly, laughing when his hand moves up, his fingers pushing into her hair as he pulls her to him, kissing her hard as she straddles him.

Normally, at this point, he'd be reaching for a cap—that thin little barrier to keep between them to prevent anything unwanted from happening—but this time, it's not necessary because for the first time, the consequences of what they're doing are actually the desired outcome.

She's not sure why it is—after all, she's spent plenty of time thinking about this—thinking of that outcome sends a little thrill down her spine and makes her stomach flutter, and unlike before, her excitement is unmarred by worry.

Breaking the kiss, she grins as her eyes meet his, wanting to watch him as she sinks down onto him. In reply, he grins back at her, reaching out and rubbing at her clit with his thumb and pushing his fingers through the wet spot between her legs. She's more than ready for him, but she loves the eroticism of watching him touch her and she loves the anticipation that builds inside of her as she waits for what's to come, as she aches for it.

He looks at her, his smile sly and his eyes hungry, as he reaches for his cock, positioning it for her as she rises up onto her knees. Slowly, she lowers herself, taking him little by little until he's fully inside of her. She draws in a slow breath, enjoying the way he fills her. His eyes flutter and he lets out a low little moan that tells her that it feels just as good for him as it does for her.

His hands slide over her ass, rubbing roughly, as her hips start to move, rocking back and forth as she starts to fuck him. Her hands glide over his chest, her nails scratching as another moan escapes him, as she moves herself a bit faster.

She takes it slow, wanting it to last, wanting to savor and really enjoy it.

"You feel so damn good," he breathes out. "So good."

She grins—and she responds by leaning in, her hands moving up to his face as she pulls him into a kiss.

It's wet and messy—and it makes her want him even more.

Her hips move faster. She's practically bouncing on him as she rides him, her breath growing ragged as she feels herself beginning to lose control— and that's when he starts to take over.

Robin grabs at her ass as his hips begin thrusting forward as she feels her thighs tightening around him, her orgasm building as she grows increasingly sensitive. She's babbling, barely aware of what she's saying only that she wants more—she wants it faster and harder and deeper.

She cries out, her orgasm hitting hard as she slumps forward, her forehead resting against his.

He doesn't miss the opportunity to kiss her—and this time, it's softer and sweeter than the one before it. He groans against her mouth, her hands wrapping around his head as she pulls herself up against him, her nipples rubbing against his chest.

His thrusting slows as she rides out her orgasm—and then, as she's still coming down from her high, she pulls back. Her hands slide down his legs, holding him just above the knees. She slides back and he nearly slips out of of her before she pushes herself forward, fucking him slowly.

They stay this way for awhile as she catches her breath and she can tell that he appreciates watching her this way—watching her body as it moves, watching the way she stares up at him with a seductive little grin spread across her lips, watching as his cock slides in and out of her.

"Fuck are you gorgeous," he says huskily, as he reaches for her, pulling her to him, his fingers diving between her legs, rubbing roughly at her clit.

"Oh, god," she moans. "That's… so good."

He looks pleased with himself, leaning in and kissing her briefly as his arm hooks underneath her thigh. She follows suit, wrapping her legs around him as he lifts her, picking her up and carrying her over to the bed. He lays her down and her legs part as he lays down beside her—and as soon as he's down, she's rolling onto her side and pulling him to her. Her leg wraps over his hip as he slips back inside of her, fucking her hard until he's coming.

Her own orgasm doesn't take long to come—building quickly as his urgency sets in and his thrusts become harder and her fingers find her clit, rubbing until she falls over the edge with him. She groans into the crook of his neck as she feels her muscles starting to relax—and it's then that she feels the difference between this time and all the others.

He grins at her as he lets go of her and she rolls onto her back.

His hand slips over her bare stomach, rubbing gently at her skin—and she laughs softly, at his satisfied little smirk.

"You look awfully pleased with yourself."

"Truthfully, I am," he tells her, chuckling softly as he leans in again to kiss her. "I'm so glad to be home."

"Mm, me too," she murmurs as they trade chaste little kisses. "I really do hate it when you go."

"You should come with me next time."

She sighs. "That's… so much work and—"

"And we could have _so much_ fun, just the two of us."

For a moment, she just looks at him and then, she feels herself nodding. "We could—"

"And who knows how much longer that'll be a possibility, with a baby, and all."

Her stomach flutters and she nods, reminding herself not to get ahead of herself and to enjoy this for what it is. "It sounds like you have to go again soon."

"In a few weeks," he admits. "It's all boring stuff I wouldn't want to attend to if I didn't have to, but…" His voice trails off and a bright, mischievous little grin tugs onto his lips as his hand slides down her stomach and two fingers slip between her legs. "But I think I can make it worthwhile."

"Yeah?" She asks, grinning as she looks to his hand, watching as his fingers circle around her swollen and sensitive clit. "You seem… like you might want to give me another preview."

He nods. "That second wind you spoke of earlier might've just hit me."

"Is that so?"

He smirks and nods again. "Wanna see if you can rile me up again? I make no promises of how long I can last or how good this is going to be, but I think we can still have some fun."

She grins and sits up, pushing her hands up the sides of his stubbly cheeks to kiss him as he leans back against the pillows. She crawls into his lap and his hands wrap around her back, holding her loosely as they kiss, the nervousness of before completely vanished and replaced by the thrill of what's to come… and how much fun they'll have getting there.


End file.
